


you want it darker

by dustofwarfare



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Canon Divergence, Enemies to Allies, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, M/M, Multi, Political Alliances, Political Marriage, Snark, a lot of banter, and also being badasses, badass lunafreya, balance through political marriages, because gods this game made me need that, but ardyn will still be creepy, crowe and luna bond over footwear, demon!emperor!ardyn, diabolos - Freeform, fic not as dark as the premise might sound, joyful nonmonogamy, lots of poly, main ship is ardyn/noctis and noctis/prompto with eventual ardyn/noct/prompto, prophecies are made to be altered, seriously a lot of poly, traveling!oracle!luna, villain ardyn, where no one dies, with bonus!demon ardyn creepiness!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-04-15 03:40:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 73,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14151162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustofwarfare/pseuds/dustofwarfare
Summary: There are many ways to end a bloodline. Death is only one of them.In which Ardyn Izunia makes a deal with the devil – literally.(Or: Ardyn is Diabolos’s earthly avatar who rules over what used to be Niflheim. The former Empire of Niflheim is a cold, dark world full not of demon-infested MTs, but sentient demons who do Ardyn’s bidding. With his dark army close to conquering all of Eos, Ardyn offers King Regis a peace treaty that will guarantee Lucis's survival...and give Ardyn his long-sought vengeance on the line that betrayed him.Despite the title of this fic and the pairings, this isn't dark!fic really -- it has a happy ending, and there's no non-con involved. Just, you know. Ardyn being Ardyn, so there's that :| )





	1. you are the healer

**Author's Note:**

> Diabolos is my favorite simply because of FF VIII and the gloriousness that is the “ENC-None” ability. I spent hours on Cactaur Island leveling up my GF abilities just for that. Because I love that game, but the fifty-third consecutive fight consisting of the _same godsdamned two grats I’d just killed_ made me rageful. Anyway, I feel like the whole demon aspect is more Diabolos than Ifrit, and thought, huh, what happens if Ardyn makes his contract with the Lord of the Scourge instead of the Infernian? 
> 
> …a demon!AU, forced marriage situation. OBVIOUSLY. 
> 
> Story to be told from different POVs with no real order as the story demands (sometimes in multiple chapters but always with a scene switch), and will feature poly!ships because I love them and this entire canon just makes it so easy. Main ship is Ardyn/Noctis and Noctis/Prompto, with Ardyn/Noctis/Prompto eventual (all consensual).
> 
> **For story purposes, everyone is about three years older than they were at start of the game, so Noct is 23, Iris is 18, etc.**
> 
>  
> 
> Title/chapter titles from the Leonard Cohen song "you want it darker" which is 100000% Ardyn Izunia like whoa.

_Tenebrae_

Lunafreya was in her garden, tending to those few precious flowers that flourished in perpetual twilight, when he arrived.

She could feel him, walking through the dead field where her beloved sylleblossoms once grew. The lack of sun these last four years meant the field was nothing now but weeds. Still, the thought of the Scourge walking through the barren field was somehow more than she could bear.

Pity she had no other choice.

Luna straightened and brushed her hands on her jeans. Both were stained with dirt, but it hardly mattered. Her visitor’s hands were stained with much worse, and she could hardly be expected to receive him as if she were happy he was here.

Even the thought of having to see him, speak with him, stand in some near proximity to him…it made her stomach twist with revulsion.

Part of that was the instinctive reaction of a healer to the avatar of the Scourge, and part of it was simple dislike. Emperor Izunia was not a man who stood on ceremony, but his easy smiles and charming disposition did not hide the _thing_ he was inside. Even back before he made his true self known, she had sensed there was something _wrong_ with him.

The Emperor was in the reception room, humming quietly to himself, looking dusty and well-traveled. His hands were in his pockets and he turned away from the painting he’d been examining to smile at her.

“Ah, my dear Lady Lunafreya. And how are you, this fine day?” Malice gleamed in his bright gold eyes and twisted the curve of his smile into something sinister. 

“Your Imperial Majesty,” Luna said, her hands clasped in front of her. She could feel her nails digging into her palms as she gave the smallest of acceptable bows.  

He smirked and inclined his head. “No need to come any closer, my dear.” A snarl distorted his features before he smoothed them into something empty and falsely pleasant. His magic -- or whatever he was -- reacted quite strongly to her.  _Pity it doesn't keep him from visiting._

She was torn between the healer’s instinctive need to give comfort, and a small, petty vindictiveness that her presence brought him some amount of pain. One look outside the window at the twilight that would never end and that vindictive feeling grew larger than she would like.

That was Ardyn Izunia’s insidious influence – that even an Oracle, a healer sworn to the light, could revel in momentary suffering, no matter how loathsome the sufferer.

He laughed. The sound made her want to take a step back, but she forced herself one step closer instead. She hated what he was but she refused to go in fear of him. It was nothing but foolish pride, perhaps, but she couldn’t help it. With one wave of his hand he could bring darkness and demons to swarm her home, and they both knew it.

Why he hadn’t, well, that was something only _he_ knew. She didn’t doubt he had some plan.

“May I ask what brings you to Tenebrae?” she asked. _And how soon will you be leaving?_

“I need your assistance, my dear,” he said, so reasonable, taking the hat from his head. His violet hair was messy from travel. He clutched his hat to his chest and bowed to her. “I’m afraid I must ask you to carry a message of some importance for me.”

“A message.” Luna’s voice was suspicious. She was not permitted to leave Tenebrae, was all but a prisoner here in this land of eternal dusk. 

“I have decided it is time to bring an end to this war,” he said, in his smooth, rich voice. “And I would like you to deliver my terms to King Regis in Insomnia.”

Luna stared at him. “I – what?” It was rude, but she only offered him the barest of polite courtesies. That he was an emperor meant less than his status as Avatar of Diabolos, but she’d likely offer the Shadow Father himself the same scant courtesies were he to be standing in front of her.  

“Terms, my dear. I would like to end the war, and I would like you to deliver my terms to the King. Shall I repeat it, again? It’s not a very difficult concept, is it? You tell me.” Ardyn leaned against the mantle, smiling at her.

“And what terms are those?” She could barely understand what she was hearing. Of all the things she would have expected him to say, this was certainly not on the list.

“I shall withdraw my army from all of Lucis, and furthermore, I shall allow you, in your role as Oracle, to travel to places so _recently_ afflicted and do your…” here, he waved a hand. “Thing. I assume there’s something left to heal, at any rate. I made it _quite_ clear in recent months that I didn’t want entire towns decimated, but demons have an ever-evolving vocabulary so who's to say what they think that word means?”

She stared at him, aware her mouth was actually open in a comical expression of surprise. She snapped it shut, utterly thrown by this news. It had to be a trap. “And you – what is it you want? Insomnia?”

He snorted. “Hardly. Oh, I hear it is quite a marvel and I look forward to seeing it. The idea of walking its sun-drenched streets in all my dark glory _is_ rather appealing to my sense of dramatic irony.” He paused. “Is that dramatic irony? Running an empire has severely limited my free time for studying such things.” He clucked his tongue. “And here I thought immortality meant I’d learn everything there was to know.”

“You have clearly not learned to remove your shoes before entering someone’s home when they are caked in mud.” Luna glanced pointedly down at his boots, which had dragged dirt and mud onto the polished tiles of her home.

“My sincerest apologies!” He bowed to her, and the dirt vanished as if it were never there. His magic was dark-tinted and _wrong,_ and left more of a stain than the mud. She wished she had not said that; pettiness was not something in which she normally indulged. “Now, dear lady, would you like to hear the rest of this? For I am simply _aching_ to tear your spine from your body and I think perhaps that would put a damper on both our afternoons, we are simply not compatible for long conversations.”

She would not give him the satisfaction of showing fear. She nodded, focusing on her own clean, healing magic. She let it run through her, and saw the thing inside of him recoil like she’d thrown a spell.

“It is my home,” she said, quietly. “I will not apologize for finding comfort when I need it.”

“Your home only on my sufferance, dear lady,” he said, and there it was, the hint of _other_ in his voice, thrumming with something fetid and profane. His voice was under control when he spoke again, but it was quiet, without his usual flowery delivery. “I seek a balance between my kingdom of night and Lucis. To do so, I will return the lands I have conquered to the King who holds rightful dominion over them. Those that are long under my black banner will remain thusly, of course. The demons must have somewhere to call home. And in return, all I ask is for Prince Noctis’s hand in marriage.”

Luna clapped a hand over her mouth in sudden laughter. He grinned as if they were sharing a grand joke and winked at her.  

“Don’t you think we’ll make _quite_ the couple? He’s a bit younger than me, I know, but at my age….” He spread his hands and gave her his oil-slick smile.

“Noctis is a man, Emperor Izunia.” Luna was beginning to think she had fallen asleep in the garden.

“Yes, thank you, my dear. I’m aware. He is a man – well, a boy, honestly, he’s barely twenty-five, is he? And I am…what I am.”

“Why?” She had no idea if he would actually tell her his plans, but it seemed she could not help herself from asking. “Why would you…I do not understand why you would wish to marry _Noctis._ ”

“I have my own reasons,” Ardyn said, gently, as if she were prying. Which, she supposed she was. “But you must see how _generous_ I am being.”

She couldn’t breathe for a moment. Lucis, free of the Scourge and her, given the ability to _heal_ the darkness this man had wrought. It was too good to be true, which meant, of course, that it must be a lie. “And if your terms are not met?”

Ardyn shrugged. “Then I suppose I shall continue to do what I am doing and bring Lucis to heel.” He smiled. “It shan’t take long. My advisors, they say in a matter of months, all the lands from Gralea to Insomnia shall belong to me.”

“Insomnia shall not fall as long as the wall remains,” she said. “You intend to use this marriage to take it?”

“Again, since you're being very obtuse, I want nothing of Insomnia." Ardyn gave another dramatic wave of his hand. “The King and his cursed line is welcome to it until the sky falls – from some other malady than mine, I might add.”

Luna’s mind whirled as she tried to figure this out. "You are afraid of the prophecy that says the Chosen King of Light shall end the Scourge?”

He shrugged. “Afraid? Not really. If it were up to me, I’d be happy to take over all of Eos and out of sheer curiosity see what happens between myself and the Chosen King. But, ah, you see…I made a covenant with a god and he does not have the same interest in hypotheticals as I.”

_When the darkness covers the land, then shall the King of Light slay the Starscourge._

Luna edged into the room, keeping her distance as best she could. “You will take over the world, but leave Insomnia alone. So the prophecy may never be fulfilled. What is to keep Lucis from allowing the darkness to overtake Insomnia, if it comes to that, in order to stop you?”

“You shall have to ask them, my lady, but were I king Lucis –” here, a bitter, fully-human twist of his mouth  – “I would realize that to get to that point, the entirety of my kingdom would suffer immensely. What would be left after the sun returned? No, if Regis wants to save anyone, he will agree to this. His kingdom will be safe, and his son and I shall rule in tandem.”

“You’ll forgive me, I’m sure,” Luna demurred, “But that seems far too generous.”

“Perhaps. It is a simple thing, really. I promised the Dread God years ago that his children would be safe on this earth, with a dark place to call their own and a king to follow. And I shall keep that promise, so that he keeps his.”

“Which is what?” Luna asked, though of course, she did not expect him to answer.

He winked. “Perhaps one day, I shall tell you a story. Or you could ask your messenger,” he said, voice rising. “She might tell you. But I doubt she will. One thing I have learned of the Gods, my dear Lady Lunafreya. They have little reason to tell us the truth, and are wont to change it at will.” Another old bitterness flashed in his bright amber eyes. “At any rate, it does my black heart good to know that you think I am being generous.”

He was – and in doing so, would put the King of Lucis in a nearly impossible position. To sacrifice everything in hopes an ancient prophecy would come true, at the cost of nearly every Lucian life? Or turn his back on the Gods that blessed his line for one singular purpose, to keep the people safe?

“You are the very devil,” she whispered, her heart aching.

He laughed and bowed again. “Not quite. Now, one other thing. I shall send you to Lucis, but in order to make sure you don’t simply vanish into the sunlit streets and defect, please know that _thousands_ will suffer if you do not return to me with the king’s answer, whatever it may be.”

“And if he refuses? What happens to me?”

Ardyn snapped his fingers and a sylleblossom appeared. “Your favorite flower, yes? Sylleblossoms. As delicate and lovely as you, and just as in need of sunlight.” He bowed and held the flower out as if offering to take it.

She did not move, merely watched as the false flower lit on fire. She watched the flame throw shadows on his cruel features while the thing burned to ashes on her floor. None of it was real, of course. But the dead field beyond her home was real enough, and the twilight caught forever in the sky was no magic. She hated the gloom but she knew if he took that away, it would be even worse.

_So that’s why he did it. He took most of the light away, just so that I’d be afraid of losing what was left._

Her home would become her tomb, enshrouded in forever dark.

“You were a good man, once,” she said, because the truth of it was there even if it were buried so deep she wasn’t sure it even mattered.

“I was,” he agreed. “And the gods saw fit to punish me anyway. I simply tire of playing their games.”

“And the Lord of the Scourge?” she asked, before she could stop herself. “You think you do anything other than play _his_?”

“Diabolos?” Even hearing the name spoken aloud made her shiver. He shrugged, unconcerned. “He didn’t wish for his demons to be slain like animals before they had their chance to evolve. He wanted them to have sentience, to have a place like all other creatures of Eos. Is that so wrong?”

 _Yes,_ her magic screamed. “I am not interested in debating with you, Emperor Izunia.”

“Just as well. I’ve read a lot of books in my long existence, my dear. I doubt you could keep up, though…well, if my kind offer is refused, perhaps you’ll have enough time to try. You’ll need to stock up on candles, of course.” He smiled and put his hat on his head. “Will you undertake this most serious of tasks for me, Oracle?”

She hated him for this. “Do I have a choice?”

“Not particularly, but do you really wish for one?”

It wasn’t hypothetical, he was actually waiting for her to answer. She made a frustrated sound. “We both know I don’t have one, so let us not pretend. I will take your terms to the king.”

“Excellent!” he cried, theatrical as ever. “And tell the king that he needn’t worry, I shan’t harm his son either before or after our marriage. Oh, but…do mention that is contingent on one little thing, hmm? If I so much as hear of the existence of a child with Lucian blood, the treaty is null and void and I shall _tear him to pieces and make Regis watch me eat him alive._ ”

The growl was there in his voice, again, and he calmed himself with visible effort before smiling widely. “But I’m sure that won’t be an issue – no pun intended.” He laughed. She did not. “And do tell the king that as a show of good faith, if he accepts my terms, I’ll remove my armies from whatever province he likes. All he has to do is say the name, and you’ll be free to go there and heal whatever my darlings have brought upon the populace. After the wedding, I shall make good and withdraw all my forces from Lucian lands.”

Luna just nodded, hands twisting together. “I shall tell him.”

“Good, good. And my dear, when you’re traveling to fair Insomnia…do take note of the lands you pass through, and the people, hmm?” Ardyn’s smile was like ice, and his eyes turned black so no white remained. The room smelled faintly of sulfur. She thought she heard the rustle of wings. “Because I have made it clear to my demons that they restrain themselves, but should I be denied…ah, well, I shall make sure any such restraint is thrown out the window, and that _you hear their screams every moment of your miserable, Gods-touched life_.”

She did shiver, then, and had to look away from him. There was really nothing to say, but of course, that didn’t stop him from getting one last word in.

“Think of it this way -- at least you shall see the sun once more, regardless. Now, I think that’s all we have to say to each other, and I daresay you are as eager as I to be out of each other’s presence, yes? A pity. You might have made me quite an empress, were you not…what you are. Perhaps if Lucis wishes to cling to dusty old prophecies and it is indeed my destiny to darken the world, I’ll take you anyway. You won’t survive our wedding night, but alas, it should at the very _least_ be quite the party.”  

The thought of him touching her was chilling, as was the thought he might actually be serious. She would not mention it to King Regis, regardless. The fate of the world was not tied to _hers_.

“At any rate, I look forward to hearing his majesty’s answer, shall we say…three days from now? That seems rather fair. For each day you make me wait, you and the Lucian king, my armies will ravage somewhere highly populated and I shan't instruct them to practice restraint. Quite the opposite.”  

She nodded but did not look at him, though she could hear when he took his leave – and feel when he was gone. She knew she had no time to waste, especially considering his parting words, but she needed a moment to collect herself.

_I will see Noctis, finally, after all these years. And I can say thank you to Prompto for rescuing Pryna in person._

_And I suppose Ardyn was right. If nothing else, I shall finally see the sun again._

It had been four years. She wondered if it would be too bright. She wondered if the light would burn. She didn't think she'd care. 


	2. guards are taking aim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Nyx and Crowe find themselves in an early-morning council meeting with some Very Important People -- including, but not limited to, a king, a prince, and an oracle. 
> 
> Oh, and Nyx accidentally sees Prompto Argentum naked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a bit of an error in the last chapter, which I fixed – timeline wise (I hate timelines, I’m as bad as SE with them) I decided that Ardyn took over the Nif empire four years before the start of this fic (which would have been a year before the events of FFXV if we were going canon). So the darkness has only been spreading for about four years, meaning Luna was out and about doing oracle stuff until Ardyn’s ascension to Emperor kept her stuck in Tenebrae. I went back and fixed that in the first chapter. 
> 
> Also: Luna and Noct get this hug because THEY SHOULD HAVE GOTTEN AT LEAST ONE HUG, GAME >:(

_Insomnia_

Crowe knew she was late the second she opened her eyes. The sun was all wrong, slanting in the window that wasn’t hers, but was still familiar. Familiar enough that she knew she wasn’t going to have time to go home before she had to be at the Glaive. Damn it.

Also, why did that asshole not wake her on his way out?

Grimacing, she grabbed her phone – only to see that when she’d plugged it in the night before, she’d neglected to actually plug the _charger_ in, so the phone was dead. Extra awesome, what a _great_ day it was turning out to be.

Crowe shoved the covers off and rolled off the bed. It was a double, which was the height of luxury to someone who’d been used to sleeping in a single for the last few years. Nyx’s promotion meant longer hours and less chances to fuck, but damn, at least when they did get a chance the bed was bigger.

She pulled her hair into a messy ponytail with the aid of one single comb she found in Nyx’s bathroom (she was going to have to start keeping some stuff here, seriously, _who just had one comb?_ ), scowling because the tiny bands he used on his braids were nowhere near big or sturdy enough to keep her hair back. Luckily, she found one of her hair ties under the bed, which, well, it was the little things, wasn’t it?

Her uniform was a tad dusty and maybe a shade past acceptably wrinkly, but otherwise all right; she didn’t smell great, but there was no way to clean Glaive uniforms of the smell of sweat and honestly, they _should_ smell like sweat, kinda, given their entire purpose was to be useful. She borrowed Nyx’s deodorant (which purported to smell like Astor pines but just smelled like a bad car air freshener) and used his toothbrush without a single regret. Considering what else of his she put in her mouth, if he had a problem with her using his toothbrush he could get over it.

She grabbed her phone and charger and shoved it in one of her uniform pouches, then headed out for the Glaive. It was a nice day, sunny and bright, and for a minute she stood there on the street and let the warmth of the sun soak into her skin. She wasn’t the only one doing that, either. Especially here, in a neighborhood inhabited by quite a few immigrants whose hometowns were suffocating under the Empire’s drowning-dark.

Crowe was one of the few who knew what that darkness felt like. It wasn’t like nighttime. It was cold, slick like dew, and it felt like you wanted to start crying and throw yourself off a cliff – even _before_ the demons showed up. Either the ones that walked and talked like people, or the non-sentient ones, it didn’t matter. Both kinds wanted to kill you.

A guy on the subway tried to give up his seat for her, which she declined with a wave and a shake of her head. That’d been happening a lot lately. People knew Glaives were fighting and dying out there for Lucis, and they were respectful. Maybe a little too much, though she wouldn’t turn down the occasional free drink or discount at the grocers. Hey, she liked her job but gil didn’t grow on trees.

The second she walked into the Glaive HQ, she was ambushed by Libertus.

“Crowe! You’re never going to guess what happened!”

Did anyone in the literal history of ever like playing that game? “Uh….nope, sorry, I’m stumped. What is it?”

Libertus rolled his eyes, but he threw an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in to hug her…and noogied her on the head, messing up all the work she’d done with Nyx’s piss-poor excuse for a haircare implement. “Nyx got called in early to escort a _princess._ To see the _king._ ”

“What?” That didn’t make any sense. Were there still princesses in Lucis? Her eyes widened as she realized who he meant.  “You don’t – really? The Oracle?” Crowe was chased out of her village as a child thanks to some kind of superstitious nonsense, and she used to disbelieve all of it just on principle. But now? Hell. The world was overrun with demons, controlled by the immortal avatar of a God no one remembered. Made you a little more open-minded.

Libertus nodded. “Lady Lunafreya Nox Fleuret.”

Crowe snorted. “That name. I just. Why do that to a poor little kid?”

“Don’t the prince got a name that means _night light_?” Libertus asked.

Like anyone named _Libertus_ should talk. Crowe knew it was a popular name in Galahd back when they’d been under control of the Nifs. Like some kind of sympathetic magic, maybe. “I think it means something like _sky of the night’s light_ or something. I sucked at ancient Lucian grammar, though.”

“So, like I said. Night light.” Libertus let her go and she straightened her uniform, smoothed back her hair, and followed him into the weaponry so she could plug in her phone.

“Why’s Lady Lunafreya here?”

“Probably to marry the prince,” said Libertus. “Wouldn’t you think?”

It’s not like either of them would consider themselves _royalists_ , really. They were an elite force that fought for the King but they were refugees, and while Crowe didn’t care too much about her home, Nyx and Libertus certainly did – if their drunken renditions of old Galahdian ballads were anything to go by.  

Really, it was just…easy, to fall into royal gossip. Trivial, given what they were doing and the losing battle they were fighting, but it filled the empty spaces with something other than terror, so. Why not. “Don’t they have to announce stuff like that?” She plugged her phone in and watched it flash the dead battery symbol at her as it started to charge.

“Forget to plug that in last night?” Libertus asked. “Or is your port fucked up again?”

“Nah. Just forgot.” She hadn’t been home to put it in the port, but she didn’t say that. If Libertus knew about her and Nyx, he hadn’t learned it from her. She knew they had to be discreet, even more than usual given Nyx’s promotion. “Maybe she defected. Tenebrae’s technically in the Empire, isn’t it?”

No one really knew what to call it the Empire _of_. It wasn’t the Niflheim Empire anymore – Izunia had seen to that when, as Chancellor, he’d staged a coup with his demons and overthrown old Aldercapt. All the names the press tried to give it sounded, frankly, way too much like a companion game to _King’s Knight._ “Empire of Darkness” or “Demon Empire” or “Empire of the Black Banner,” which was the least terrible but also the longest and therefore most annoying one to say.

“Let’s hope so. Maybe it’s good news for the war.”

There was no good news for the war, if you asked Crowe. She turned her attention to the television that was abuzz with the news of Lady Lunafreya’s visit. “How’d she get here?”

“They said an imperial ship dropped her off and just…flew off. She’s got diplomatic immunity on account of her being an Oracle and all.”

They were silent as they watched the news, which of course, was just a bunch of people saying the same three facts – that she was there, that she’d been brought by an imperial ship, that she had diplomatic immunity – over and over. They were conjecturing wildly about her purpose in Insomnia; everything from marriage to King Regis himself, to official Astrals Business ™, to a defection.

“She used to go out and cure people,” Libertus said, eyes wide. “I remember. Before Emperor Izunia made her stay in Tenebrae, she was always out there. Curing demon-sick and all that. Then he wouldn’t let her leave. What a sick fuck.”  

“You expected, what, he’d be anything else? Come on. You’ve fought his army, same as I have.” Crowe leaned against the locker and pulled her phone up. It had enough battery power now that she could see her messages.

_Nyx: got called in early._

_Nyx: you’ll never guess who showed up in the city while we were drinking_

_Nyx: holy shit I think the war is over_

She blinked at the message. “Nyx – Nyx says the war is over.”

Libertus shot her a look. “Wait, what? Nyx texted you…when? What does that mean, over?”

She waved a hand. “Shhh. Let me see.”

_Me: what you have to explain that what is wrong with you_

_Me: also omg I’m buying you a hairbrush >:(_

She sent a scowling selfie with that one, making sure the top of her hair was included. It looked like a rat’s nest.

“He’s not answering.” That wasn’t a surprise – if he was on guard he probably couldn’t actually text her back, but what the hell, who sent a message like that and didn’t follow it up?

_Nyx. He doesn’t understand that maybe you don’t say that until you can give all the information. He is, as the one comb and terrible deodorant suggests, a man._

“Hey, Altius!”

Crowe glanced up from where she was staring at the screen of her phone, willing a message from Nyx to appear. It was Furia, poking his head in the room. “Captain Ulric said you should head up to the Citadel.”

“Look at that. I’m ,oving up in the world, boys.” She swept him and Libertus a bow, then did a mock queen-wave and adopted a posh accent, attempting to sound like that chamberlain, Scientia, who had an even more posh accent than the fucking _king_. “You may bid me farewell, brave knights.”

Libertus snorted. “Sure thing, _your majesty_. Send us commoners some decent booze, yeah?”

“Are you kidding? In the grand tradition of royalty everywhere, if I find good booze…I’m keeping it. You slobs can have the dregs if you’re lucky.” She followed that up with another queenly wave, then headed out the door, pretending she was too important to hear them booing.

***

It had been a very weird morning for Kingsglaive captain Nyx Ulric.

He’d been summoned to the checkpoint near the main entry point of Insomnia – the only one they used, anymore, thanks to the War – shortly after dawn. He’d disentangled himself from a sleepy Crowe, dressed in the dark so as not to wake her, and mentally prepared himself for something terrible.

Usually when he was summoned to the entry point at dawn, it was to greet returning Glaives…or what was left of them.

Instead, he’d found himself with wide-eyed guards and a tired slip of a woman in heels carrying a suitcase. He hadn’t recognized her by sight, but he sure as hell knew the name.

“She says her brother dropped her off,” said the border guard. “Her brother, Ravus Nox Fleuret.”

“As in, the High Commander of Emperor Izunia’s army?”

“He – he brought me alone,” Lady Lunafreya interrupted, glancing between them. She looked nervous. “I am no friend to the Emperor. I cannot say the same for my brother, but he did naught but wait with me until the dawn, then escort me here. He will return in three days time. Please, I must see the King. It is of vital importance.”

That they’d had the Imperial High Commander here, _this close_ , and let him go seemed like a monumental failure to Nyx. He tried not to think about it. Who would have expected Nox Fleuret to just…drop his sister off like she was going to a playdate?

Nyx gave the order to scout the area just in case, and sent the message to Cor. While he waited for him to answer, he’d asked Lady Lunafreya why she was there.

“I’ve come to speak with the King about ending this war, before all is lost,” she’d said, looking right at him.

Her eyes – they were beautiful. They looked like water, like the sea around Galahd. Looking into them made him dizzy, made him feel calm, and it was nice. Which, of course, Nyx immediately did not trust. 

Nyx knew magic because he had a talent for it, but it he used it to fight. This was not fighting magic, and that made him immediately wary. Nyx was captain of the Glaives. He had a duty to keep them safe, and unfortunately, being suspicious was often the very thing that kept him alive.

The last Captain had been – well. Returned in pieces by Emperor Izunia himself. He’d stood right at the gate, waving, smiling brightly in his absurd coat and a black fedora.

_Hello, there, Lucians! I return your Kingsglaive Captain to you. Niflheim might have approved of moonlighting, but I’m afraid I have no patience for a general with divided loyalties. I went ahead and took care of his execution. No need to thank me! Good day to you, I shall see you when next we meet on the field of battle!_

Drautus had been _General Glauca._ Fighting for the Nifs _and_ the Glaive. _For hearth and home, my ass._ Nyx and the entire Kingsglaive had been subjected to interrogation from the Crownsguard for several days after that incident. Nyx and Crowe never talked about it. Libertus changed the subject if someone tried to bring it up. A few Glaives never came back, and Nyx wasn’t sure if they ever left the Citadel. He didn’t like to assume they were guilty, but Drautus couldn’t have been acting alone.

It had been a shake-up for sure, but things had settled down. Nyx had accepted the promotion because he had nothing to hide and had been vehement about that during his interrogation, and it seemed like if he didn’t take it when it was offered, it might look suspicious. Besides. The Glaive was all he had left.

Cor told him to escort Lady Lunafreya to the castle, so that’s what he did. The sun had been rising as they’d made their way; he was polite and did not mention she was crying, until he felt compelled to tell her there were napkins in the dash of the car. She’d smiled at him and fumbled for the latch.

“I haven’t – it’s been four years since I’ve seen the sun,” she said, and he remembered that she’d been confined to Tenebrae since Izunia’s armies went on the warpath.

“Yeah. Sometimes we get refugees, and they say the same thing.” Nyx wasn’t the best at being comforting, but he tried. It was hard not to. There was something about her that reminded him of Crowe. A sort of lingering sadness in the eyes, but a toughness, too, beneath the tears. She didn’t seem embarrassed about the crying, either.

The one time he’d teased Crowe for tearing up at a movie, she’d given him an unimpressed look and said, “Maybe if men learned how to fucking cry, you’d stop causing all these fucking wars.”

Speaking of Crowe, Nyx sent her a few quick messages, one-handed, while they were stuck in traffic. She didn’t respond by the time he reached the Citadel, and Nyx had to turn his phone off when he was in the royal antechamber. She was probably going to be pissed at him for ending it at _I think the war’s over,_ but hey, she should get up earlier.

Nyx escorted the Lady Lunafreya to the throne room. It was only a few seconds later that King Regis swept in, looking kingly and imposing as ever. His severe features broke out into a smile Nyx had never seen before when he saw Lunafreya.

“King Regis,” Lady Lunafreya said, her voice choked, soft. “Oh, it’s – so good to see you.”

“My lady,” the king said, bowing to her as if she were the monarch instead of him. “It does my heart good to see you here.” He took a step forward, and so did she – for a second Nyx wondered if they were going to hug. He’d never even seen the King hug anyone. Including the Crown Prince, though he wasn’t exactly the huggy type, Nyx didn’t think.  

Instead of hugging like normal people, the king took Lunafreya’s hands in his. She grasped them and began to cry; Nyx glanced at Clarus Amicitia, the King’s Shield, who exchanged a look with him first, and then Cor Leonis, who stood next to them.

“I – oh, my dear, my dear,” the King murmured. “None of that, now. You are here, you are safe. Insomnia is your home, you needn’t fear the Empire. You never need be trapped in the dark again, my lady. You know this is your home for as long as you would like it to be.”

Lunafreya’s laugh was a little wild and more than a little sad. “I – you have no idea how much I wish that were true, your majesty.”

The King winced as if she’d said something hurtful; Lady Lunafreya made a soft little sound and said, quickly, “No, oh, your majesty. I – I do not blame you for that, it was not your fault! I am not my brother. I know who bears the blame for what happened to my lady mother. And it was not you who decreed, four years ago, that I should never step foot outside of my home.”

“Still. It was…I should have offered you both asylum as soon as possible. That shall be rectified. If your brother—”

“My lord,” Clarus interrupted. _Please do not grant asylum to the high commander of the enemy’s army_ went unsaid.

“Not a good idea,” Cor added. _You idiot._

The King’s eyebrows raised.  He glanced at Nyx, as if waiting for Nyx to add his opinion. Nyx stared straight ahead and said nothing. He wasn’t stupid.

“At least one of my Glaive has the common sense not to argue with his sovereign,” the King said, but there was a fondness there. He’d known his Shield and the Immortal a long time.

Clarus gave a sigh, and Cor _snorted._ They were all old friends, here – except for Nyx. Kingsglaive captain he might be, but he was a foreigner and it was a position that had not yet built back up the respect Drautus had siphoned out with his duplicity.

 “My dear Lady Lunafreya, if not for asylum, what brings you here?” Regis said, still clasping her hands. “And why do you think you cannot stay?”

“Emperor Izunia,” she said, dully. “He bid me bring you terms for peace, but it was made quite clear that I am to be the one to return with your answer.”

The room fell so silent that Nyx could hear them all swallow.

“You came here on behalf of Izunia?” This from Cor, who seemed to be personally offended at the idea of calling Izunia _emperor._ Nyx didn’t blame him. The guy was two skewers short of a Galahd kabob special. Which only ever came with two skewers and maybe, _maybe,_ a side of rice if you were lucky.

“He knew that you would receive me, and that I would…do what I could, on behalf of those who are suffering under his Scourge, to end this war.”

“Izunia – are you quite certain?” The King blinked at her. “He wants to _end_ the war? Outright?”

“The Emperor wishes to remove all his troops from Lucis,” Lunafreya said. “He will withdraw and return your lands to you. He – says that he. Has ordered his army to practice restraint with the – the people in the lands he has conquered thus far.” Her pretty features were drawn. Nyx didn’t blame her. He’d seen what the demon army did to people. If that was restraint…he’d hate to see the alternative.  

“And what does the Emperor wish for, in return?” King Regis’s voice was cold. “I imagine it is the Crystal, or perhaps Insomnia itself, yes?”

“I – no, your majesty. It is neither.” She exhaled, swaying a bit on her feet. Nyx looked around the reception room, found the small fridge and opened it. There were a few bottles of cold, chilled water. He checked the seal, then carried it to her without a word.

She took it and gave him a smile of such gratitude, it made some indescribable warmth settle in his stomach. He felt like someone had just given his soul a massage. “You are very kind, thank you.”

He nodded and stepped back, watching as she drank her water. He was beginning to understand what it meant, why she was important. Why her magic was so much different than anyone else’s. _There is only one of her in all of the world. And that bastard Izunia has kept her from all the people who need her. Imagine how it would feel if you were demon-ridden to have her walk among you. Ah, Izunia. May you rot in whatever hell you aren’t allowed to rule._

Lunafreya finished her water. Nyx watched, in some amusement, as Cor reached out to take the empty bottle. He seemed as affected by her smile of thanks as Nyx.

“Emperor Izunia wishes to ally Lucis and – his Empire – through a political marriage, your majesty.”

“What?” King Regis was silent for a moment. “I was not aware Izunia had any children.”

Yeah, no way would anyone _marry_ that crazy motherfucker.

“He – does not. He wishes to the alliance to be between himself and Noctis.”

…oh.

It was only years of dedicated military service that kept Nyx from laughing. He couldn’t help it. This was obviously some kind of sick joke – Izunia sent the Oracle to tell the King of Lucis he wanted to marry the Crown Prince? That was the most ridiculous thing Nyx had ever heard.

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” said Cor.

_At least someone said it._

“Noctis is a man,” said Clarus.

“Clarus. Really.” King Regis gave his Shield an indecipherable look.

“Royal marriages are between – they are not – that is not how it works,” Clarus protested. “Why would Izunia think that would be possible? Why would he even _want_ such a thing?”

“I have his terms in writing.” Lunafreya opened her bag and pulled out a folder. Nyx had been expecting some kind of wax-sealed scroll, given how old Izunia was supposed to be and how odd the man was, but this was just…a plain manila folder. “I have scanned the document for any harmful magic, but it is simply ink and paper.”

“That was very clever of you,” the King said, taking the documents. He was quiet as he read; his mouth was a tight, angry slash when he was finished, and he was visibly trying to control his temper. He did have one, Nyx knew that. Maybe not as much as he had when he was younger, but they’d all heard the stories of fire elemancy gone wrong.

“The council will meet and go over this. As soon as possible. Summon them immediately.”  The King looked to Lunafreya. “Are you able to confirm that Izunia is sincere about this?”

Lady Lunafreya took a deep breath. “Gentiana said it was hard to tell, since his covenant with Shadow Father made it impossible to see the light of truth in his words. I…his magic repulses mine, your majesty. He and I can barely stand to be in the same room as each other.”

“I’d be happy to repulse him,” Cor muttered, next to Nyx. “Over and over again, until the fucking bastard was dead as doornail.”

“He did offer to bind the treaty with old magic,” Lunafreya continued. “That is mentioned in the documents, I believe. The magic would…treat the agreement between you as a covenant, of sorts.”

The King looked over the documents. “Yes. He said it is to prove his intent to not harm my son or the Crown City. And, it says if any child is born with Lucian blood, it will be destroyed and Noctis will be – _devoured before my eyes, his corpse to be displayed prominently above my throne until the end of all things._ ”  

“Well, at least we know that asshole really wrote it,” Cor said, after a moment of horrified silence. “No one else would come up with that. And apparently he’s not that smart, if he doesn’t grasp the concept that two men can’t have a child.”  

“Noctis could have illegitimate children with someone to whom he was not married,” Clarus pointed out. “I believe that’s what the codicil is in place to prevent.” 

King Regis made an unhappy sound. “It is uncommon in the line of Lucis for a King to sire more than one child, regardless if it is with his Queen or not. My father said it was the Crystal’s way of keeping siblings from fighting over the throne.”

“I doubt that would be an issue,” Cor said. “Given Noctis is –” he paused, clearing his throat. “Not the type to be unfaithful.”

Nyx wondered if that last-minute save was for his sake, or Lady Lunafreya’s.

“Noctis cannot be expected to be faithful to a husband who is a demon,” said King Regis.

Well, mark this as the weirdest conversation he’d ever heard at work.

“If I may,” Lunafreya said, and if she was embarrassed discussing this sort of thing, she wasn’t letting it show. “Emperor Izunia is neither a demon nor fully human. He is the Avatar of the Shadow Father, and that lends him demonic abilities and immortality. But he is not technically a demon.”

“Great, that’s great,” Cor muttered, running a hand through his hair.

For the first time, Nyx spoke up. He wasn’t sure if he should, but if they didn’t want him here, they should have told him to leave. “Who’s the Shadow Father?”

“It is – the god with whom Izunia made his covenant,” Lady Lunafreya answered, turning her attention to him. “Forgive me, brave soldier, but I have no desire to speak the name.”

“Uh,” said Nyx, for whom things like Gods and Astrals and covenants were far above his pay grade. “Okay.”

“They worshipped him long ago, in Solheim, but for some reason his name fell from history. I have no idea how Izunia was able to form this covenant, nor when he might have done so.” Lunafreya’s eyes filled with tears. “But he was human once, and…the reason I cannot bear to be near him. He was like me, once. A healer. An Oracle, even. Corrupted by the Shadow Father, and I cannot…” she dropped her head, struggling visibly. “I am sorry. I do not want to bring this burden to you, or to Noctis, whom I love dearly. But the world will fall to his armies, your majesty. I cannot see anything but darkness in the future, if you do not agree to his terms.”

“But the prophecy,” Clarus began.

“We shall wait for the council,” King Regis murmured, reaching out to draw the trembling Lady Lunafreya into an embrace. “Glaive Ulric. If you would be so kind to fetch my son? I think he would like to see his dear friend before we must adjourn to the council chambers.”

Nyx wondered if Noctis would have any choice in any of this, or if the decision would be made for him. He felt sorry for the Crown Prince, though he supposed it was part and parcel of the whole immense privilege and power thing.

Then he saw King Regis, the toil that ruling took on him – and not just the magic stuff – and wondered if it was worth it. Nyx didn’t think so, but he’d never had much of an interest in power other than the kind that could help him free his home.

_What if this means Galahd --_

No. He couldn’t think about that. Time to focus on Noctis, and Insomnia, and the future of Lucis. If there was to be one at all.

***

It took a ridiculous amount of time for Nyx to get Prince Noctis to answer his door.

The Crown Prince had been moved back to the Citadel for his safety a few years ago, after Lestallum fell to Izunia’s armies. Even so, the royal apartments were a long way from the throne room, and Nyx was not going to break the door down. He would stay here and knock until sundown, if he had to.

It was starting to look like he’d have to.

“What,” the Crown Prince of Lucis asked, scowling from beneath a flop of messy dark hair, bare-chested and bare-footed, “do you _want_ , Glaive?” He did not look awake, or pleased, or as if he were in bed alone.

Nyx put his hands behind his back. “The king has asked me to escort you to the council chambers for an emergency session, your majesty. My apologies for awakening you so rudely, but I did not wish to enter without your permission.”

“Then – why is – my Shield? Shouldn’t he be here?” His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “The Glaive don’t normally escort me anywhere.”

Nyx didn’t take the prince’s suspicion personally – in fact, he was pleased to see it. It _should_ be Amicitia here, not him. “I’m aware it’s not protocol, your highness, and I apologize. I believe things are a bit hectic, given Lady Lunafreya’s unexpected arrival, but I’m certain Captain Leonis has contacted him, and if not, I’m happy to do so immediately. If you’d like to contact your father or someone to verify my orders, please do so.”

Noctis had very wide, dark blue eyes. He blinked them at Nyx, and then – he smiled. Not just any smile, but a grin – an actual _grin,_ one that showed teeth. “Luna? Luna’s _here?”_

Nyx, because he wasn’t dead inside, relaxed his face a bit at the prince’s obvious enthusiasm. “Yes, your highness. In your father’s council room.”

“Why – no one told me she was coming!” Noctis glanced at the hallway, then down at his feet, then at Nyx. He tilted his head, considering.

“Your highness,” Nyx said. “You’re not wearing shoes. Or a shirt.”

_And your chest is covered with hickeys._

Noctis must have realized that at the same time, because the tips of his ears went red. Then he reverted to the ice-cool, so-called “Prince Charmless” and crossed his arms, his smile fading. The effect was a bit ruined, though, because the smile was still there in the Prince’s eyes. “I’ll be a second. Make coffee. If you want.”

Blinking, Nyx wondered if the Crown Prince had just told him to make _him_ coffee or make _himself_ coffee, decided the order lacked enough direction that he could ignore it, and took up his place by the door to wait. He could hear the low murmur of the Prince’s voice coming from the bedroom, and then a very exuberant, “No _way_? Really? Seriously? And you didn’t know? Hey, can I meet her, too? I –”

“Prompto,” the Crown Prince said, loudly, and clearly in warning. “Don’t –”

Prompto Argentum came around the corner, stopping as he saw Nyx. Unlike Noctis, Prompto was naked as the day he was born, and he clearly did not expect Nyx to be standing there. “Oh, uh…Glaive Captain Ulric! H-hey, buddy. Hey. I’m just gonna…” Prompto cleared his throat and jerked his thumb to the bedroom. “Go in there, pretend this didn’t happen and um. Get dressed! Cool! Okay, bye, dude!”

Nyx stared up at the ceiling, and since no one was there to see, let himself grin. He might not be able to tease the Crown Prince, but hell, Argentum was a regular commoner like Nyx. That meant he was fair fucking game.

Noctis was out in three seconds flat, and he looked…well, Nyx had taken oaths and this was his Prince and no way was he letting him out of the room like that. Someone would probably hang Nyx for letting him appear in public. Probably Scientia. “Your highness, I don’t think your shoes match.”

“They’re both Converse,” Noctis said. He looked all of fifteen, not twenty-three.

“And that shirt is on backwards,” Nyx pointed out. He couldn’t help the small smile. This was a side of the Prince he’d never seen before, and it was sort of hilarious. Nice to see even royalty could be flustered every now and then…either that, or Noctis couldn’t dress himself without help.

“You’re laughing at me,” Noctis said, flatly, but he didn’t look mad. “I guess I should be lucky you’re not Iggy. He’d make me wait while he ironed something. Uh. Don’t get any ideas.”

“I don’t even own an iron,” Nyx said, which was true. His dress uniform he paid to have cleaned, shelling out the few extra gil to let them iron it for him.

Crowe didn’t have an iron, either. He didn’t think. He knew better than to ask.

Noctis was gone for a little longer this time, but when he appeared he looked much more like a prince; except for his hair, but then again, it always looked like he just rolled out of bed. He’d also brushed his teeth and his shoes matched, so, score one for royalty.

Prompto followed Noctis out of the bedroom. His shirt was also inside-out, what the hell, maybe it was an age thing. Prompto grinned at Nyx. “Uh. Hey. Sorry, I didn’t mean to give you a show.” He smacked his own ass. “Good show, though, right?”

“I’m not answering that,” Nyx said, and Prompto cracked up.  

“I’m not sure if Crownsguardsman Argentum is approved to accompany you or not,” Nyx said. “But I can ask.”

“No, you – you go, Noct. Catch me later, cool? If she wants to meet me, I mean. Man, it’s Luna! It’s really Luna!” He seemed awfully happy for someone whose – boyfriend? – was about to meet…ah, whatever, Nyx should not care about any of this, why did he care?

Crowe would care. So would Libertus. At least he’d have some good gossip for later.

“Yeah, okay. Thanks, Prompto.” Noctis ran a hand through his hair and gave Prompto a look; it was one that spoke volumes, and Prompto’s smile in return was not one for Nyx to see.

They were –

_Nope. You’re not going to think they’re cute. No._

His last stint outside the Wall must have addled his brain. Nyx accompanied the Prince to the elevator and forgot that he’d just thought that.

“Why’s she here?” Noctis asked, glancing up at him. He was twenty-three, slender, attractive, and Nyx thought perhaps this was the first time he’d ever actually met the real person behind the title. Or maybe he just felt sorry for Noctis, because of that whole _you might have to marry a half demon or whatever Izunia is_ thing. 

“I’m not sure if I’m permitted to tell you outside the council chambers,” Nyx said. He did feel bad, but no way was Prince Noctis going to learn he might have to marry Ardyn Izunia from him, Nyx Ulric, in an elevator. Not without a _significant_ pay raise and a new apartment.  

“No, yeah, sorry. I’m just. I was eight, the last time I saw her.” Noctis was so distracted that he almost tried to get out of the elevator first, which was protocol that he should have been following since he was old enough to walk.

“Your majesty,” Nyx said, once he’d made sure the way was clear.

Noctis seemed composed until the second the door opened, and he got a look at who was waiting. “Luna?”

Lady Lunafreya looked up from her conversation with the King and saw Noctis. Her face broke into a grin, and tears spilled immediately onto her cheeks. It was a little like the way she’d cried for the sun.

“Noctis! Oh – look at you! You’re so --!” She shook her head, and then she _ran_ at him, and the Crown Prince of Lucis grabbed her in a tight hug, as if the rest of the world didn’t exist.

Nyx felt an ache in his heart, because if this was love, it was doomed. Fuck, his goddamn Galahd heritage made him a sucker for this shit. They’d practically invented tragic melodrama, and here it was, playing out right in front of his eyes. If he were drunk enough, he’d have the best song for this.

“Oh. Em. Gee.” Crowe had arrived, and sidled up next to him. “If I sold a picture of this to the tabloids—”

“You’d probably end up executed,” Nyx muttered.

“Worth it,” she said, and bumped his shoulder. “Look at them. _Look._ Aw.” Crowe smiled. “How gross. Young royals in love.” She batted her eyelashes.

Because no one was paying them any attention, Nyx said in a low voice, “He was in bed with the commoner Crownsguard boyfriend when I got there.”

She bit her lower lip, shoulders shaking slightly with laughter. “Pics or it didn’t happen.”

Lunafreya pulled away, her face tear-streaked. Noctis’s was, too, and they looked sixteen, stupid, in love, but then she said, “Where’s Prompto? I was hoping he’d come with you! Is he still asleep?”

“He wanted to give us a chance to say hi, since it’d been awhile,” Noctis said, and then, in a louder voice, “It’s funny because they all think you don’t know about him.”

Busted.

“Your highness!” The breathless voice belonged to Ignis Scientia, Noctis’s chamberlain, who was shadowed by the taller, broader form of the Prince’s Shield, Gladio Amicitia.

“Iggy, Gladio….it’s Luna!” Noctis took her hand and smiled at her, then turned toward his advisor and his bodyguard. “She’s here! Look! I did not make her up, and she does _not_ care that I didn’t eat my vegetables.”

Ignis Scientia cleared his throat. “Ah. Your highness, really.” He gave Lady Lunafreya a smile and a bow. “My lady. We told him that when he was eleven.”

“You told me that literally last week,” Noctis muttered. “But whatever.”  

“It is an honor to see you again.” Ignis smiled at Lady Lunafreya. He was immaculately dressed, everything on the right way and pressed and crisp. He definitely had an iron and probably even used it. “You are even more lovely than you were when first we met. How long ago was that, now?”

“Fifteen years, my goodness, and look at you! So handsome, Iggy!” Lunafreya’s smile made everyone in the room feel good, Nyx included. “And Gladio, how is your dear sister, I hope very much to see her while I am here.”

“Oh, my Gods. She’s so _hot_ ,” Crowe murmured, next to him. Not a surprise, really. She had a thing for blondes.

“I’m afraid we must adjourn to the council room,” King Regis said, after Lady Lunafreya had said her hellos to Noctis’s retainers. “I am happy beyond words that this reunion is possible, but there are urgent matters at hand and we must discuss them.”

Nyx half-expected to be dismissed, but instead, they were motioned along with everyone else into the council chamber. Crowe and Nyx flanked the door, Gladio stood behind his prince and Clarus and Cor behind the king. The others were there quickly, and the doors were shut and barred as King Regis addressed those assembled.

“Lady Lunafreya is here on behalf of Emperor Izunia,” the King said. “He wishes to end the war. The terms are unusual, but they offer a full removal of all Imperial troops from Lucian lands. Emperor Izunia will no longer seek to impede the Oracle in her position as healer, and she will be given free rein to cure those lands affected by Scourge.”

No one said a word.

“And what is it that Emperor Izunia wishes us to give him in return?” Scientia asked, clever as always. “I would imagine he is angling for Insomnia, yes? We’ve all heard the prophecy.”

“No,” the King said, and then, “He is asking for Noctis.”

“To kill me, I’d imagine,” Noctis said, and there was nothing of the exuberant young prince in his voice – he sounded as cold as his father. “He’s welcome to try, if that’s what he wants. I’m _more_ than happy to kill him.”

Nyx felt a glimmer of magic on the air, and a surge of respect for his Prince. “You will not fight him alone, your majesty,” Nyx said. He put his hand in a fist over his heart and bowed, moved.

“You and your damn Galahd nobility,” Crowe muttered, but she mimicked the gesture.

“Yeah, no way would that happen,” Gladio growled, giving Nyx a look. Nyx winked, and Gladio’s mouth quirked. They’d had a few nights together a few years ago, before the Shield fell hard for the chamberlain. Nyx wondered if Scientia ironed all of Gladio’s shirts. Lucky bastard.

“I am, of course, beyond moved that my son inspires such loyalty in all of you, but the Emperor does not wish to fight Noctis. The Emperor wishes –” here, Regis lost a bit of his unholy calm, and his eyes closed for a moment. “He wishes to marry him.”

“ _What_?” 

“Not gonna tell him you’re with him for that one, are you,” Crowe whispered, and Nyx was pretty sure someone had to have heard.


	3. written in the scriptures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Fuck the prophecy,” Noctis snapped, losing his temper. He realized that there was an odd violet light throwing shadows across the table – it was him. His eyes were glowing. _No time to worry about that now_. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is Lucis. And Lucis isn’t Insomnia – Lucis isn't a city at all. It’s people. And it’s the king’s responsibility to keep them safe. If my ancestors have a problem with that, they can take it up with me when they see me.” 
> 
> In which Noctis decides "Chosen King" means he gets to decide what kind of King he'll be. 
> 
> (Also includes Noctis/Prompto being adorbs, and friend snuggling w/Luna because these kids deserve some cute before the chaos that is Ardyn Izunia shows up.)

_Insomnia_

Noctis sat in the council chamber, listening to them all talk about his future as if he weren’t there.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t expect this. He’d always known that part of being a Crown Prince meant someone would choose who he would marry. It’s just that, up until about four years ago, he’d always assumed – always _hoped_ – it would be Luna.  

Well, there was that brief time he wanted to marry a pop singer when he was sixteen, but that had mostly been Prompto’s fault. They thought it would be a cool story, the prince and pop diva, and maybe it would have been as long as it involved a prince who wasn’t Noctis. That was the same year he’d confessed to Luna the secret that he’d never admitted to anyone, ever – _I don’t think I like girls the way I’m supposed to._

To which Luna had written back, _Don’t worry, I’ll like them that way for you,_ and then Noctis had understood. She’d also been the one who said _just kiss Prompto and see what happens_ and, well, Noctis had kissed him and hadn’t stopped yet. Luna had been so happy she’d drawn a ridiculous little picture in the book, an image of Noctis with hearts all around his head and a thought bubble with a badly drawn picture of a chocobo in it. If he could have torn that page out and kept it, he would have. 

Which was why the idea of marrying Luna was the best, really. He knew that he’d have to marry a woman for the succession, but he was pretty sure that he and Luna could make it work. He did _like_ her and she was certainly beautiful, and more importantly, he figured they’d have fun together and get the job done somehow. Noctis wouldn’t be the first king whose preferences ran strongly toward his own gender. That his father had told him, anyway, when at seventeen Noctis had told him about Prompto and how he was worried he wouldn’t be able to give the kingdom an heir.  

 _You love who you love,_ his father had said, with one of his gentle, patient smiles. _And as for the succession, do not worry as of yet. As long as Prompto understands your duty to the line of Lucis, all will be well, my son. Kings of Lucis have had very understanding and open-minded queens over the years._

Given his father’s longtime relationship with his Shield – with which his mother had either been a part or had supported, Noctis had never asked for details – that seemed to be true.

Prompto did understand all of that, and that’s what made it even better if Luna was his queen. They liked each other, they were pen-pals, too, and really, Luna had brought them together in the first place, hadn’t she?  

He’d hung onto this dream for so long that part of him felt like it was only a matter of time before it became a reality.  

Then, three years ago, everything changed.

Izunia had overtaken the old Nif empire and the Scourge was spreading faster than anyone could have anticipated. That’s when the Crystal told Noctis the truth, that the duty of the Chosen King was not to save Lucis by giving the kingdom an heir, but by giving his own life. And Noctis, once he realized this, knew he could never marry Luna – or anyone else.

He’d tried to break things off with Prompto, too. Had, in fact, but Prompto was nothing if not tenacious and when he finally figured out _why_ , he’d punched Noctis in the stomach and said, “Like I’m gonna let you go off and die alone, I’m your _Crownsguard,_ idiot, not just your boyfriend.” And then, when Noctis was doubled-over in pain and trying to cast a fire spell on Prompto’s stupid hair, Prompto kissed him and told Noctis he loved him and to stop worrying so much.

In the last year, though, Noctis started to have different dreams.

Instead of dying on his throne with his father’s sword piercing his heart, he was standing on an altar, robed in black and wearing a crown of stars. Behind him lurked a shadow in the shape of a man, faceless but flanked by great, sweeping black wings. Noctis had no idea what it meant, or what he was meant to do anymore.

It seemed as if now he knew –but no one was giving him a chance to say it.

“The prophecy,” Clarus was saying, “If we disobey, if we allow the Scourge to remain even a little, do we risk angering the very gods themselves?”

“We have placed our faith in the Crystal and it has protected Lucis, _is still_ protecting Lucis,” said one of the advisors, someone named Marcus Troilus that Noctis always called _Marcus Joyless_ because he never smiled.

“The Crystal, and my magic, is protecting Insomnia,” his father said. “Not Lucis.”

“Your majesty, please see reason,” Marcus begged. “We are all aware of how taxing it is for you to keep the Wall in place. Take your magic back from the Glaives and focus it all on protecting Insomnia. Keep the Crown Prince safe so that he can take over for you when the time comes. Marry him to the Oracle, so that they may have a son to carry on when _his_ power weakens. As much as it pains my heart to say it, Insomnia _is_ Lucis. It is all we have left, and we must protect it.”

“Just because you’ve never left the city in your entire life,” Clarus huffed. He didn’t like Marcus, it was no real secret.

“Oh, and you have? Save galivanting around with his majesty and _a mechanic_ in your youth –”

“You’re just jealous no one invited you,” Cor piped up.

From Gladio’s place behind him, Noctis heard a soft snort of laughter.

“The truth is that Lucis is gone,” Marcus said, ignoring Cor’s words. “Our kingdom is this city, and the only hope we have is to stay safe behind these walls. Let Izunia take the world if he wants it.”

“You are talking about sacrificing _thousands_ of innocent lives, Lucian lives,” Ignis pointed out, affronted.

“Then let them come here! This is the Crown City. We can accommodate them –”

“Are you even aware of the conditions for immigrants in this city at the present time? They are nowhere _near_ where they should be.” Ignis asked. He sounded offended, but maybe only people who knew him well would be able to tell. “You are suggesting we swell the city’s population without the means to support –”

“They’ll be _alive_ , Scientia, isn’t that what matters?”

“If the worth of a kingdom is measured only in the number of people breathing, then I suppose so,” Ignis said, his jaw tight. “Forgive me, but I thought that was more Izunia’s benchmark of success than our own.”

“Your idealism aside,” Marcus bit out, “The truth is the city of Insomnia is the Crown City for a reason. It is here that our best and brightest dwell. It is a sad and awful truth that so many will suffer beyond our walls, but that does not make it any less the truth.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Noctis caught sight of Kingsglaive captain Nyx Ulric. Noctis wondered how it felt for Nyx, to stand there and listen while some Crown City born-and-bred politician tried to argue that Lucian lives outside the city walls counted for nothing.

Nyx, who put his life on the line to try and save Lucians from the Empire – be it Aldercapt’s or Izunia’s – even though his own home and hearth had been lost to him. Nyx Ulric was a brave man, a good man, and he did not fight for the glory of the Crown City, or some ancient prophecy given by a crystal, or even a king – he fought for _Lucians._ And he deserved a king who did the same.

_If I am truly the chosen king, then that is the king I choose to be._

Noctis heard Luna draw in a startled breath and turned toward her. She met his eyes, her own wide, gleaming with ancient magic. Her gaze was distant, far-away. Then she smiled, and nodded, and squeezed his hand. That was the only sign he needed beyond his own certainty that he was doing the right thing.

Noctis rose to his feet. “That’s _enough_.” He turned to his father and bowed. “Your majesty. As the Crown Prince of Lucis, I accept the terms of the treaty. I will marry Emperor Izunia as requested.”

“Your majesty,” Marcus began, huffily. “Prince Noctis.”

Noctis looked at him. “Just remembered I was here, did you?”

“Your opinion shall be taken into consideration, of course, but you must understand this is not your decision, but the King’s and his council’s.”  

Was he serious? “You’re wrong. It is _my_ decision, and I’ve made it. I won’t hide behind my father’s magic –or my own – while people, while _Lucians,_ suffer and die. If you don’t think that’s the right choice, you don’t deserve to be in here.”

“Your _majesty,_ ” Marcus glared. “The prophecy—”

“Fuck the prophecy,” Noctis snapped, losing his temper. He realized that there was an odd violet light throwing shadows across the table – it was him. His eyes were glowing. _No time to worry about that now._ “It doesn’t matter. What matters is Lucis. And Lucis isn’t Insomnia – Lucis isn't a city at all. It’s _people_. And it’s the king’s responsibility to keep them safe. If my ancestors have a problem with that, they can take it up with me when they see me.”  

Noctis sat back down, slouching in his chair. He was trembling. Luna reached under the table and took his hand, squeezing it gently.

“Are you prepared to allow this?” Marcus asked the council at large, but some of his bluster had evaporated. Good. Noctis was totally firing that guy whenever he could. Out of a cannon. What a jerk.

“I am,” the King said, with a decisive nod. “The Crown Prince has reminded us all what is important, and that it is, indeed, the people. I support his decision, and the treaty shall be signed so that this war can come to an end.”

“You can leave if you don’t like it,” Noctis said, to Marcus.

Gladio didn’t even bother to hide his snicker.

“Noctis,” his father reprimanded gently, but there was a glimmer of a smile on his austere features. “Izunia has promised, as a show of good faith, to withdraw his army from a territory of our choosing once we return the signed treaty to him.”

“Galahd,” Noctis said, then remembered that Chosen King or not, he was still the Crown Prince. “Um. If I could make a suggestion. Your majesty.”

Ignis shook his head and sighed.

Marcus, who apparently was trying to save face after the dressing down of his _life_ (that’s how Noctis was going to tell this story to Prompto, anyway), spoke up. “There are certainly more strategic areas –”

“Do you know who that is?” Noctis interrupted, pointing at Glaive Ulric.

“Noctis, it is not polite to point,” Ignis said, like he couldn’t help himself. They were _really_ going to have to talk about toning down the lectures in front of people who already didn’t like him.

“Well?” Noctis waited, arms crossed.

“That is a Kingsglaive,” Marcus said, nose in the air. “I’m not familiar with the Glaive, as it is not within the purview of my responsibilities to the kingdom to know their names.”

 _Yet to save yourself, you were going to happily throw him and his people to the demons. Uh-huh._ “His name is Nyx Ulric. He’s from Galahd. Most of the Glaive are Galahdians.” He did glance sideways at Ignis for this one, because he was _mostly_ sure about that. At Ignis’s slight nod, Noctis continued. “He and his fellow Glaives have fought and died for Lucis since their home was taken by the Nifs. I think they should get it back.”

“I agree, your majesty,” said Clarus, and holy shit, if he’d ever given Noctis such an approving look in a council meeting before, it’d only been when Noctis had managed to stay awake for one.

“So do I,” said Cor, looking as if he were trying to stop himself from ruffling Noctis’s hair.

“As do I,” Ignis added. “Few have fought as fiercely and as loyally as the Glaives, and as the Prince said, most of them hail from Galahd.  It is a fitting and worthy tribute.”

“Great,” Noctis interrupted. “But I wasn’t putting it to a vote.”

“You’re not the king yet, son,” King Regis said, a thread of amusement in his voice. “But as it happens, I am in complete agreement. Let Galahd’s freedom show the Kingdom of Lucis that the crown protects its people above all else, and will do what is necessary to see everyone within its borders are safe.”

“I shall be permitted to attend to the sick and afflicted in Galahd following the withdraw, as per the Emperor’s terms,” Luna spoke up. “Perhaps your majesty would be so kind as to send a contingent of Glaives with me?”

“A splendid idea, Lady Lunafreya. Glaive Altius has been assigned your guard while you are here, so perhaps she and Captain Ulric shall escort you to Tenebrae and then to Galahd.” King Regis smiled. “A homecoming long overdue, I believe, Captain Ulric.”

“We’d be honored, your majesty,” Crowe said. “So would Captain Ulric. He’d say that, but he’s trying not to cry. Galahdians are hella sentimental.”

Nyx, who wasn’t crying but did look suspiciously bright-eyed, choked out a, “Yes, your majesty,” and that was the end of the meeting.

Marcus swept out with as much dignity as he could manage, but Noctis mostly ignored him.

“I’m very proud of you,” King Regis said, a hand on Noctis’s shoulder. “Worried beyond all sense about this, but I am proud that you will one day wear the crown. Even if I know what a burden it can be, your heart is in the right place.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Noctis heard Ignis clear his throat and sighed. “Your majesty,” he amended.

King Regis chuckled. “I haven’t heard anyone drop the f-bomb in a council meeting since your mother attended one when eight months pregnant with you. Remind me and I shall tell you the story at dinner.”

Noctis smiled. He loved hearing stories about his mother. She was apparently a firecracker. “Will do.”

“You’re sure about this marriage thing?” Gladio asked, when the King had taken his leave. “I’m going to end up having to kill that asshole, I just know it.”

“Maybe,” Noctis said, because honestly, he had no idea how this could play out other than _badly._ “But I made the right choice. The only choice. I don’t care about the prophecy. I care about the people. “

“You can stop with the speeches, Prince Charmless,” Gladio said, dryly. He knocked Noctis in the shoulder, as usual not quite aware of his own strength.

Before Noctis could say anything, he heard a soft, “Your majesty,” and looked over to see Nyx Ulric standing at attention before him.

“Captain,” Noctis said.

Nyx put a hand to his heart and bowed. It was, without a doubt, the most heartfelt and reverent bow Noctis had ever received in his twenty-three years of life as the Crown Prince. It was a bow meant for a king. “I am honored to serve you, Prince Noctis. Sorry I made fun of your shoes.”

Noctis was startled into a laugh. He liked Nyx. He wondered what Marcus’s job was. Maybe Nyx could have it instead. “I’ll forgive you. I mean. You were right. They didn’t match. Take good care of Luna.”

“Oh, we will.” That from Crowe, who bowed as well. “You kinda look like maybe you should be in an emo band, but that was a badass speech.”

“You can feel free to demote her,” Captain Ulric said, glancing over at his fellow Glaive with a warning frown.

Noctis gave a shake of his head. “It’s the hair, isn’t it?”

“No,” said Ulric.

“Yes,” said Crowe.

“Yes,” said Luna.

“What do you mean, your shoes didn’t match?” Ignis asked, sounding horrified.  

Noctis sighed. He was just about to say something when he felt his phone buzz; retrieving it, he saw it was a message from Prompto.

Oh, no. The council meeting had been over for less than five minutes, but Noctis knew that was plenty of time for _the prince is engaged_ news to spread to the Crownsguard, at the very least.

_Prompto: omg ur engaged?? That’s why she’s here! [moon emoji] [heart-eyes emoji]_

_Prompto: this means im a stepdad to the dogs right?_

_Prompto: it better mean that [dog emoji]_

_Prompto: oh and I’ll give you the boyfriend discount on wedding photos_

_Prompto: it’s 20% off [sunglasses emoji] [finger guns emoji]_

_Prompto: j/k it’s more like 35 but haha hey tell luna congrats and I still wanna meet her!_

_Prompto: since we’re gonna share_

_Prompto: uh [worried face emoji]_

_Prompto: I mean if everyone is still ok w/that_

_Prompto: I’ll be quiet now [zipped lips emoji]_

_Prompto: [chocobo emoji] [heart emoji] [crown emoji] [moon emoji]_

 “Oh,” Luna said, her hand on her chest, when he showed Luna the text messages. “He’s – what a darling.” She looked at him expectantly. “Do I get to meet him, now?”

Noctis nodded and texted Prompto to meet him in his apartments. “Yeah.”

He wondered what sort of emoji Prompto would use for Ardyn Izunia. Maybe the little devil face one.  

***

Prompto and Luna got along like a house on fire, as Noctis knew they would.

There was a hug that wasn’t awkward and lasted for ages, there was Prompto talking a million miles a minute, holding Luna’s hands and dancing her around. Luna’s quiet, soft joy fed into Prompto’s boundless energy and determination, and gods, Noctis’s heart ached at the thought that in a different life, they might have both been by his side when he took the throne.

Noctis watched them both, then said, “Prompto, think we could get a few pictures?”

“Is the Crown Prince hot, or what? ‘Course we can.” Prompto’s camera flashed as bright as his grin, and the photo – him, with Prompto on one side and Luna on the other – was one he knew he would always cherish.

“So, engaged? Engaged!” Prompto asked, later, when they were on the couch. Luna was curled up looking at a collection of Prompto’s photographs, and Noctis was ignoring the text messages from Ignis, Gladio and his father that all basically said _have you spoken to Prompto._ Prompto, who was convinced Noctis’s father and his retainers didn’t like him, never understood how much he mattered to other people.

“I’m engaged,” Noctis said, loathe to ruin the moment but unable to put it off anymore. “But not to Luna.”

Prompto blinked at him. “Wait. What? If not…who?”

Luna cleared her throat and took one of Prompto’s hand. “Prompto? Noctis is doing something to save the world. To save Lucis. And it is very hard. We, more than anyone, have to support him.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Especially you. Because I can see the love you have for him, and it is vast. Like an ocean. You would do anything for him, not because he is the prince, but because he is Noctis. You see the soul of who he is, and it is a gift that will be of utmost importance in the coming days. I am his Oracle, but you, Prompto – you must be his light.”

Prompto’s eyes were wide. He glanced between them. “Uh. Noct? Are you, like, dying?”

“No,” Noctis said, amused despite himself at Luna’s dramatic turn of phrase. How did she come up with that stuff on the fly? “I’m just getting married. To, uh. The Emperor.”

Prompto stared at him. “Funny. Funny, dude.” Anger flashed briefly over his features. “I know I don’t – I know I’m just a _commoner_ and I don’t know about this royal shit, but you don’t need to make fun of me.”

Oh, no. Prompto was gearing up for one of his _I’m worthless because I’m a commoner who doesn’t know where he’s from and therefore do not belong in your life_ rants, during which he could tear himself apart better than any weapon in Noct’s armiger.

Before Noctis could do what he normally did – which was either kiss Prompto or tackle him, or both – Luna made a sound of distress and grabbed Prompto’s hands again, half-kneeling on the sofa to stare at him imploringly. “Oh, no, you – you are the most important thing in the world to him!”

“Luna,” Noctis said, turning six shades of red. Geez. That dramatic turn of phrase wasn’t so funny, now.

Prompto looked at him as if for confirmation of this. Noctis shrugged. “You’re okay. Eight out of ten.”

Prompto’s grin was as sudden and bright as his earlier anger. “Uh-huh. I’m an eleven and you know it, baby.”  

“ _Boys_ ,” Luna said, rolling her eyes. She patted Prompto on the top of his head before resuming her seat.

“You’re really – fuck, is that even possible?” Prompto asked, drawing his knees up to his chest. “For two guys, I mean?”

Luna coughed.

Noctis blushed, _again_. “Prompto. You attended Ignis and Gladio’s wedding.”

“Yeah, but they’re…not royal. Wait. Are they? Is Gladio a lord? I can’t ever figure that out. I meant is it possible for two dudes who were royalty to get married.” Prompto scowled. “Not that I want to give Izunia that much credit.”  

“There’ve been plenty of same-gender royal marriages.” At Prompto’s wide-eyed stare, Noctis laughed a little. “Second marriages, usually, but yeah. After my great-grandfather died, the Queen married a Galahd princess. And I’m pretty sure that my dad has asked Clarus to marry him at least six times.”

Prompto _squeaked_. “No way!”

Noctis nodded. “Yeah. Clarus said he won’t do it until my dad abdicates. I mean, this was…years ago, now. I think this war sort of changed things but…yeah. The thing is, it never happens unless there’s an heir. That’s always been the rule. And technically, yes, Gladio and Ignis both are royalty. Ignis is a count and Clarus is my father’s war duke, so that makes Gladio an earl.”

Prompto looked a bit startled by that news, considering he’d never once referred to either Gladio or Ignis as _my lord._ Of course, Prompto never referred to Noctis as anything but _Noct,_ even before they were sleeping together. “Right, but…you don’t have an heir, unless you _really_ haven’t told me something.”

Noctis shook his head. “It’s part of the treaty that I don’t have one.”

Prompto made a face. “That’s a dick move. What the fuck? Why would Izunia not want you to have an heir? Does _he_ have one?”

“No,” Luna spoke up. “I think whatever covenant he made with the Shadow Father means he cannot have children.”

“Probably a good thing,” Noctis muttered. “Considering he’s a demon. And a warmongering asshole.”

“He’s not a demon, I don’t think,” Luna said, thoughtfully. “I believe he harbors the Scourge, which is _demonic_ , but I think as the Shadow Father’s avatar, he merely…manifests as one? I’m not entirely sure.”

“Yeah, about that, which Astral is that?” Prompto asked her. “I don’t remember. Is it Ifrit?”

“No.” Luna’s voice went flat. “I – please don’t make me say his name. It is anathema to me.”

“That means it’s bad?” Prompto asked. At her nod, he gave an easy shrug. “Okay. But more importantly, this whole marriage thing…is he gonna try and kill you? Because you know that’s not happening.” Prompto’s voice went all low and determined. “I won’t let it.”

“Neither will I,” Noctis said, dryly. “And honestly, I don’t know.” He gave Prompto a brief outline of the treaty, which turned into a report on how the council meeting had gone.  

“It was terribly brave, when Noctis stood up and announced he would be a king of the people, not the crystal,” Luna said. She patted Noctis on the arm. “His eyes were violet. It was quite something.” She fluttered her eyelashes. “Prompto, you would have thought it was _very_ hot.”

“I bet,” Prompto said, with a sly smile at Noctis.

Noctis flushed. “Yeah, well, Luna thinks Crowe’s hot.” It was a complete non-sequitur, but whatever. It was nice, after the day he’d had, to feel like someone who was twenty-three, hanging out with his boyfriend and best friend, not a Prince with an arranged marriage on which hung the fate of the world.

“Crowe _is_ hot,” Prompto said. He grinned. “I mean. I’m just saying. I like people who can kick ass.”

Luna patted Noctis on the knee. “I’m sure that doesn’t mean his feelings for you are any less.”

“Ha, ha.” Noctis had to smile at that. “Hey, I like that, too. And I mean. I’m not interested in girls but I can tell she’s attractive.”

“Well, I’m _definitely_ interested in girls and she is.” Luna put her chin on her knees, looking so adorable that Noctis reached over and ruffled her hair. She playfully batted at his hand, and they had a brief scuffle while Prompto laughed and took pictures.

They ended up tangled together on Noctis’s bed, seeking comfort from each other in a purely physical way that had nothing to do with sex. They told stories, and they laughed, and Noctis had the thought _remember this, it is precious and it is rare, and it will sustain you in the days to come._ It sort of sounded like Luna, but she was, at the moment, giggling and trying to help Prompto clear a dungeon on _King’s Knight,_ draped over Noctis who lay in the middle between them both.

He slipped his arms around them, blessed in the moment with perfect love and friendship, and no matter what happened he knew that no one could take this away from him.

 _Oh,_ another voice said, some dark sinister whisper. _But someone could._

Noctis realized that he was clutching at them both, breathing hard, and he could feel his magic swirling as if seeking an outlet. It sparked around them like an electric storm, met and matched by Luna’s. Her magic changed Noctis’s, forming an impenetrable shield around the three of them. Noctis knew his eyes were gleaming violet, could see the shadows thrown from their bright glow.

“Woah,” Prompto said, softly. “This is pretty badass. What, uh. What is it?”

Noctis couldn’t speak, choked with the magic and what he knew was love, unconditional and perfect, and wished he could say something about how he would do everything in his power to deserve it, so that they would never doubt he was worth the gift they had given him.

Of course, Noctis was too shit with emotions _and_ words to get it out. So he just held them close, shuddering, not crying but close in a way that was from joy instead of sorrow.

The moment passed as all things do, the magic easing and his vision returning to normal. “Uh. Sorry about that.”

Luna pressed a hand over his heart, her smile sweet. “Don’t apologize. It was beautiful. I love you, too.” She kissed his forehead, then lay down and snuggled up against his side, her head on his chest.

Prompto mimicked the pose on his other side, reaching out and joining his hand with Luna’s. “Yeah. Demon emperor husband or no, we got this.”

Noctis laughed and closed his eyes, not wanting to sleep as much as he wanted to just…drift, in this perfect contentment, to soak it up and let it sustain him for the difficult days ahead.

Of course, he fell asleep anyway.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the things that I think happened without the canon bro-trip for the chocobros is that Noctis spent more time with Prompto and talking to Luna, so he’s not quite as close with Iggy and Gladio as he didn’t have that bonding experience yet. That will, of course, happen during this fic. Also I made up some royal attributions for Gladio and Ignis, and decided they got married because I wanted them to. 
> 
> Also I swear that Ardyn and Noctis eventually do meet in this story, LOL. 
> 
> NEXT TIME: Luna is smitten, and she and her Glaive escort head back to Tenebrae -- where Emperor Izunia gives her a gift for a job well done.


	4. not some idle claim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izunia’s serpentine smile returned, his cold eyes dead like amber. “But permit me to give you a gift, Lady Lunafreya. A thank you, if you will, for your tireless dedication to _peace_.”
> 
> The only thing she wanted from this man was his farewells. “Peace is enough, Emperor Izunia. I assure you, I am in need of nothing you can give me.”
> 
> “How selfless, but you are wrong. There is something I can give you that you most assuredly do need. That you want, more than anything.” Izunia has lost his usual false charm, his voice and his expression as cold as his eyes. This was the man who had brought an empire to heel and taken it as his own. “If not a gift, then, think of it as a reminder. That the Shadow Father giveth, and he taketh away…but not always in that order.” 
> 
> ____
> 
> In which Luna extends a blessing in Insomnia, awkwardly flirts with Glaive Crowe Altius, has a heart-to-heart with her brother Ravus aboard an Imperial ship, and delivers the signed peace treaty to Emperor Izunia back home in Tenebrae.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is long and probably could have been two chapters, but oh well! I know this seems to be moving slowly, but I promise things will pick up -- there are a few things that need to happen before the wedding, but we'll get there eventually. Thank you for sticking it out with me! 
> 
> And please do come chat at me on tumblr if you like, I'm at [Dustofwarfare](http://dustofwarfare-blog.tumblr.com/).

_Insomnia_

Luna peeked over Noctis’s sleeping form at Prompto, who had also dozed off. She hated to get up and end this sweet moment, but she knew she needed to. It was late, she was tired, and she wanted to give Noctis and Prompto some time together after the difficult revelations of the day.

She wriggled out from beneath Noctis’s arm and gently tugged her hand free of Prompto’s, then swung her legs over the bed and went hunting for her shoes. She really should have packed something sturdier than her favorite pair of heels. She hadn’t been thinking that clearly when she’d packed for this trip.

Noctis had shifted toward Prompto in his sleep, and the two were entwined, limbs arranged in hard-won muscle memory. She crept quietly over to Prompto’s side of the bed and extended a hand, closing her eyes and whispering a quiet prayer. “May your light ever guide him from the darkness, and may his darkness give you respite when your own light blinds your way.”

She smoothed Prompto’s hair back with an affectionate gesture, but he did not wake. With that, she turned and left them there, tangled together on the bed. They loved each other, and she could only hope it was enough to sustain them in the dark days to come.

The thought of Ardyn Izunia anywhere _near_ the two of them made her angry. They had to be strong enough to sustain the sick drain of his magic. They just _had_ to. The prophecy had changed in some indelible way and she knew that, but it would take some time for her to figure out _how_.

Luna opened the door of the suite and found a guard in the hall, and as she’d been instructed, asked kindly for him to send for Crowe.

Luna put on her shoes, then went into Noctis’s bathroom and tried to make herself look a little more presentable, as benefitted an Oracle and a princess. It definitely had nothing to do with the attractive Glaive coming to collect her to take her back to her room. Nope.

Glaive Crowe was there in seconds, her dark eyes alert despite the hour and her hair messy in a way that made her look like a model. Luna was not used to being around women that were this attractive, and she felt clumsy and tongue-tied as she said, “Glaive Altius. I am so sorry to be so late. We lost track of time. I haven’t seen Prince Noctis in person since he was a child, and we had much to catch up on.”

She realized she was babbling and felt her cheeks heat slightly. Crowe had a direct gaze, she was clearly confident and capable, and she really _was_ gorgeous. “It’s cool, your majesty.” Crowe gave a bow. “Are you ready? Your room isn’t fair.”

“Yes, thank you.” She went to leave, but Crowe stopped her with a quick hand on her shoulder. She was wearing fingerless gloves, and her grip was warm and firm on Luna’s skin.

Luna, who had just been snuggling with the extremely attractive Crown Prince of Lucis and his equally attractive boyfriend, didn’t feel anything like the rush of electric heat that sparkled over her when Crowe touched her.

 _So this is what it’s like_ , she thought, giddy. All of her attempts at dating had ended with the ascension of Emperor Izunia. There weren’t that many women near her age left in Tenebrae, as most had fled when the eternal twilight had fallen, knowing the seat of the Oracle wouldn’t long remain outside the Empire’s shadow.  

“Let me go first, yeah?” Crowe asked, smiling. “That’s kinda what I’m here for.”

Luna nodded, feeling a little silly that she’d forgotten such protocol. Her face felt hot. She felt less like an Oracle or a princess, and more like an idiot. Wonderful. Besides, it was likely completely improper to be so attracted to Crowe, who was being polite and professional and nothing more.

 _She’s working, and you’re a job to her. You know how this goes,_ Luna reprimanded herself, ignoring the little voice that said _Prompto is Noctis’s guard, and they’re in bed together as we speak._

But Prompto had been Noctis’s friend before anything, hadn’t he? He’d become Noctis’s guard _because_ of the feelings they had for each other.

Luna followed Crowe down the hallway, the sound of her heels clicking against the tiles.

“Here you are,” Crowe said, stopping by a room that was only a few doors down.

Luna shook her head sheepishly. “I feel quite foolish needing an escort for so small a distance.”

“Nah, don’t worry. It’s my job.” Crowe went in first and checked the rooms over; they were well appointed, lavish but impersonal, clearly meant for a guest. Much neater than Noctis’s messy apartments, and thus far lonelier. “Your belongings are in the bedroom, my lady. Your majesty,” she corrected herself.

“You needn’t be so formal, Glaive Altius. After all, we shall be traveling together, yes? Call me what you like but know it would please me a great deal if you were to use my name.”

Crowe grinned at her. “I love the way you talk. Like. The accent, and just, the way you use all those words. Are you related to Ignis Scientia? He talks the same way.”

Crowe’s touch of irreverence made Luna grin. Crowe reminded her a bit of Prompto, which made her wonder if she and Noctis had the same type. “No, and he’s a dear man, but do trust me when I say…my speech might be a bit stilted, but I am nowhere near that stuffy.”

Crowe’s grin brightened and reached her pretty dark eyes. “Somehow I got that feeling, Lady Lunafreya.”

“My friends call me Luna,” she said, kicking off her shoes immediately. Hateful things. She was bringing nothing but boots to Galahd.

“Well. Maybe when no one else is around. I don’t want to get fired. And friend and foe and fu—uh, everyone -- calls me Crowe, so you know.” Crowe was checking over the apartments, pulling closed all the curtains in the room. “These are all east-facing,” she explained. “It’ll wake you up at dawn like the Infernian himself is right beside you.”

“Oh, do leave them open, please,” Luna asked, hands clasped. “I asked for an Eastern facing room simply so that I could see the sun as often as possible.”

Crowe looked briefly abashed, then nodded. “Oh…yeah, right. Tenebrae is all dark, is it?”

“Not quite. It’s rather like twilight. Certainly better than the surrounding areas. But I did not realize how much I missed the sun until it went away.”

“I think that’s true for just about everyone.” Crowe watched her, gaze direct. “Lady Lunafreya, do you think the Emperor will keep his word about withdrawing his armies? Will Lucis really get the light back?”

The way she phrased it made a little dance of energy zing up Luna’s spine, and she blinked as she realized she was receiving some sort of divine response to Crowe’s question. “Yes,” she said, surprised. “The Emperor shall keep his word, and the light will return to the lands where it has been lost.”

_The light he wishes to take is not from the kingdom of Lucis, but the line itself._

Crowe must have realized that Luna was speaking as the Oracle, because her eyes widened. “Okay, wow, I did not think I was important enough to receive divine Oracle messages or whatever you call it. Like. I’m lucky if people even leave me a voice mail.”

Luna shook her head slightly and gave a tired, but genuine, laugh. “Well. I can tell you that the Astrals who granted me this power prefer to deal with women. I suppose our superior communication skills extend to gods as well as humans.”

“Makes sense to me,” Crowe said with a laugh. “Honestly, though, I hope the Prince is okay. I can tell you that Nyx Ulric would cheerfully die for that kid after today. Uh. Not that he wouldn’t have, before, but…he gave Nyx Galahd back, and I’m pretty sure if he sent Nyx to kill Emperor Izunia with nothing but a salad fork and a piece of twine, Nyx’d give it his best shot.”

Luna found herself charmed that Crowe – who couldn’t be that much older than Noctis – had just referred to the Crown Prince as _kid_. “That is good to know, that he is happy. Noctis says many of the Glaive are from Galahd.”

“Yeah, they’re all out drinking. If you’re real quiet, you can probably hear the songs coming from the Galahdian district tonight.” She smiled fondly. “Libertus and Nyx are gonna be _so_ hung over tomorrow.”

“Oh, no, I hope your duties to me are not getting in the way of enjoying a celebration!” Luna would hate to be the reason anyone missed a party. In these dark times, people needed all the joy they could get.

Crowe laughed and waved her hand. “Oh, no, Lady Lunafreya. Believe me, I’m happy for the excuse not to deal with a bunch of drunken Glaives. And besides, I’m not actually from Galahd so I’m glad those who are can take the chance to party.” She smiled. “And I’ve never met a princess _or_ an Oracle before. Believe me, I’m happy to be here.”   

Luna tried, and failed, to stop the happiness she felt at hearing that show on her face. Life was short, and hadn’t she just thought how people in these dark times needed joy? Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, if Crowe knew that Luna appreciated her company. “And I am happy as well. If not Galahd, where are you from, then?”

“Some village on the Lucian outskirts. I don’t think it’s there anymore, actually, but I don’t care. I don’t have quite the same sentimentality about my home as Nyx and Libertus and some of the others. They threw me out when I was a child, after my parents died. So, you know. Not in a rush to go back, even if _is_ still there.”

Luna made a soft sound and put a hand on her chest. “Oh. How awful for you. What terrible things we humans can do to each other, even without hordes of demons praying on us.”

“Yeah. But the Glaive found me and gave me a home, and I’m happy to be here and fight with them. Especially now. It’s weird, though, because I don’t know why –” Crowe stopped in mid-sentence, and she gave a short bow. “I’m sorry, my lady. I have no idea why I’m telling you this, you must be tired and I’m telling you my whole life story.”

“It’s all right, please. I asked because I’m interested.” Luna smiled. “I’m an Oracle and a healer, Crowe. Most of what I do is listen. And I do it because it is the passion of my heart, and I find it an honor to know the things people wish to tell me.”

“Right, okay, well. I was just going to say, I’ve got no idea why they got rid of me but I sometimes think it’s because I can use magic.”

Luna took a few steps closer to the Glaive. “May I place a hand on your head, Crowe?”

Maybe it was wishful thinking, but Luna could have sworn she saw a flash of something in Crowe’s rich dark eyes that set Luna’s pulse skittering a bit. “Sure. My hair can’t get any messier than it is.”

Luna pushed the attraction aside and gently placed her hand on Crowe’s head. Crowe bent it like she was in prayer and closed her eyes, the same thing everyone did even though Luna never needed them to. She smiled a bit, felt for the other woman’s aura and found what she was looking for.

Then she took her hand away, and Crowe raised her head. They were standing very close together. Luna cleared her throat. Crowe smelled a bit like a pine tree, which was an odd choice of scent for a woman and yet oddly familiar.

_Nyx Ulric. The Glaive. He smelled the same._

Ah. Well, that was – a disappointment, perhaps, but it shouldn’t be. It was nice that Crowe had someone to appreciate her, and Ulric was a handsome man, fierce and honorable. Luna realized she was staring and blushed a bit. “You do have a natural ability and ease with magic, but there is something else. Your name, was it given to you at birth?”

Crowe nodded, and her fingers touched gently at the blood-red pendant she wore around her neck. “The name and the pendant were all I had with me when they threw me out.”

Luna reached out, then paused. “May I?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” Crowe said, and maybe she was with the handsome Kingsglaive captain but there was definitely a spark of interest in her aura. That was flattering.

Luna touched the pendant, ignoring for a moment how Crowe’s skin was so warm beneath her fingers. There was something ancient in the stone, a murmur of old, forgotten magic. Something about it was familiar enough to call out to her own power, and she smiled.

“There are old beliefs in many villages that became integrated with the Astrals and their worship.” Luna took a step back. The pine smell wasn’t bad, but it was a bit like a car air freshener. And being near Crowe made her a bit dizzy for other reasons. “In some of these, crows were considered messengers. Between this world and the next.”

“The afterlife?” Crowe asked. She’d begun to play with the pendant herself. Her nails were clipped and short. She was wearing glitter polish, which Luna found delightful.

Luna nodded. “Yes. I would not be surprised if you have some skill with scrying and with augury. Have you ever seen a ghost?”

Crowe’s eyes were wide. “I don’t think so, no, but…I just know things. In battle. Sometimes I know just where to move or when not to run. I thought maybe it was just luck and me being a badass, but I don’t know. One time Nyx told me this Galahd story about soldier who knew when another soldier was going to die, and used it to stay out of danger. Something about how he wouldn’t see their shadow so he knew to get away from them. Then he was the only one left, but he was surrounded by the shadows of all the men who’d died and they drove him mad and he threw himself off a cliff.”

“That’s…quite the story,” Luna said. She wondered what types of tales the Galahdians would have, once the demons departed their small island.

“Right? Galahdians are like, _the most_ dramatic.” She rolled her eyes. “Or maybe the guy couldn’t see _his_ shadow? Or maybe his shadow became all the other shadows and chased him off a cliff? I don’t know, the point is, Nyx called me a _crow of ill omen_ and I punched him in the junk and told him to stop. Because it felt like maybe…maybe it was true.”

“War brings no other omens _but_ ill ones,” Luna said, and reached out a hand again. “There is strength in you, and great potential. If that is an omen, it is the opposite of _ill._ Might I offer a bit of healing magic, Crowe?”  

“I’m not injured, my lady,” Crowe protested. “You should save it for those who are. I have a feeling it’s going to be a lot.”

“Not all injuries come from battles or wounds, soldier,” Luna murmured. “Besides, the magic is infinite even when my energy is not, though I assure you, I have enough for this.”

“Okay.” Crowe straightened up like she was about to receive military orders.

Luna placed a gentle hand on her arm, the warm golden glow of her magic sparking and spreading gently. When she was finished, she drew her hand back. “There you are.”

Crowe smiled; it wasn’t a cocky grin but was somehow a little crooked and even sweet. “That was nice. Thank you. I’m glad that whatever happens means you get to use your magic again. I bet it’s like…all pent up without anywhere to go.”

It was, and oddly, Luna hadn’t realized just how true that was. “I think that must be so.” She yawned, realizing she’d been up since dawn and as much as she liked talking to Crowe, she really _was_ tired.

“You should get to bed, my lady,” Crowe said gently. “I know you’ve been up a long time. Don’t worry. I’m here for the duration. You’ll be safe under my watch, here and in Tenebrae and Galahd beside.”

“I would not have thought otherwise.” Luna smiled. “But I am sad to keep you from celebrating with Nyx.”

Crowe blinked – then blushed. “How’d you know _that_? No one’s figured it out, except maybe the Marshal because he knows everything. Oracle powers?”

“Well.” Luna couldn’t quite catch her giggle. “That, and you both have the same deodorant.”

“No, we do _not_.” Crowe’s cheeks were stained with a pretty blush. She cleared her throat. “I, uh. Was running late this morning and had to use his. That’s why my hair is a mess, too. He had _one comb_. Like. That’s it. A single comb. Not even a wide-toothed one. How can he live like that?”

“You are welcome to any of my hairbrushes.” Luna wondered if she was doing this whole _flirting_ thing right and even if she should, given her assumption about Nyx and Crowe was correct.

“This is why I like girls,” Crowe said, and blushed _again_ , and maybe it wasn’t hopeless after all. “Thank you, Lady Lunafreya. I meet a lot of people who are called royalty, but you really are a princess.”

Oh, well that was – oh. “Thank you, Crowe.” Luna added on impulse, “I don’t suppose you have a pair of boots in a size eight, do you? I hate these shoes, and if I have to wear them one more day I might go mad.”

Crowe’s laugh was warm. “I’ll see what I can find, my lady.”

***

The transport ship was cold, impersonal in a way that siphoned any lingering sense of comfort and joy from her trip to Insomnia. Luna sat quietly in the small seating area, trying desperately to hold on to the renewed sense of hope that just being around the sun had given her.

Saying goodbye to Noctis had been dreadfully hard, even though she was, ostensibly, to return for the wedding. Though she could not imagine that would be very joyful; the thought of Izunia anywhere _near_ Noctis or the King made her shudder in revulsion.

No, this had been the proverbial calm before the storm, and though she left carrying memories and copies of photographs, it would not be the same. Izunia might claim that he was bringing peace to Lucis, but she knew he’d bring anything but to House Caelum. All she could do was trust in Noctis and his ability to handle the situation.

“You should not mope so at leaving Lucian lands,” her brother said, his crisp, impersonal voice disrupting her thoughts. “It makes you seem as if you are disloyal to the Empire.”

The last thing she wanted to do was have this argument with Ravus – it had yet to go any way but badly. Part of that had to do with his bitterness at King Regis, but she also knew that the demonic energy that fueled his prosthetic arm made him difficult for her to be around for any length of time.

Her brother had been injured in the coup that resulted in Izunia’s ascension, though as she understood it, he’d been in an integral part of its success. Izunia expressed his gratitude by saving Ravus’s life when he was injured, and making him the Imperial High Commander of an army full of sentient demons.

“I have no loyalty to an Empire that stands in direct opposition to everything I am,” she said, refusing to allow him to intimidate her. “You are my brother and I will always love you. That does not mean I must support the choices you’ve made, because I do not. And I never will.”

 _Your choices in your career, your allegiances or your bed partners._ She could almost _feel_ the lingering tendrils of Izunia’s touch on him, like an afterimage on a photograph. How many people dear to her would be forced to endure that monster’s hands on them in some mockery of intimacy?

There was nothing in the treaty – signed now, officially, in Lucian blood – that said Noctis would be expected to fulfill any sort of marital duty, given that was usually included only to ensure an heir. But she did not trust Izunia that he would not use Noctis’s ingrained sense of royal responsibility to push for something like that.

He wanted to corrupt House Caelum, and Noctis most of all.

She did not know if her brother was in a position to refuse Izunia’s advances, or if he genuinely desired to share his bed with the Emperor. She did not want to know; both were terrible for different reasons. “My heart aches for the man you once were,” she said, staring at him with sad eyes. Her fingers itched to touch him, to heal the Scourge. “Please let me –”

“We have been _over_ this, Lunafreya,” Ravus said, still so cold, so impersonal, like she was an errant servant instead of his sister. How different he was, from the smiling, friendly, conscientious boy he was when they were children. “I neither require, nor _desire_ , your help or healing. I shall live with the choices I have made, as we all must.”

She knew her brother was not an evil man, merely misguided and driven by an old hurt he refused to allow to heal. It did not make it any easier to see what he’d become. Her heart broke over and over again, and being around him just made it worse. “I wish things could be different. I wish –”

“Yes, well, Lunafreya, I wish a great many things were different, too.”

“I am aware,” she said, voice trembling with tears, “that you have no love for me anymore, but I –”

“Everything I have done, I have done for love of you,” Ravus said, so quietly it was hard to hear. “You will have what you wish for most, will you not? You shall be the Oracle. You shall heal the Scourge. Tenebrae will not fall into darkness and _what more do you want_? Well? What more could I give you, Lunafreya, because I –”

The door to the small seating area opened, and Ravus’s mouth snapped shut. Frustrated, Lunafreya wanted to snarl at whoever interrupted them to go away; that was the most honest conversation they’d had in years, but Ravus immediately turned back into the ice-cold Imperial Commander the moment they were interrupted, and the moment passed.

The interruption was Crowe, who was giving Ravus a wary look. “Your highness. I wanted to see if there was anything you required.”

“I am perfectly capable of seeing to my sister’s needs, Glaive,” Ravus snapped.

Crowe, to her credit, didn’t rise to the bait. “I’m doing my job as commanded by my king, Commander Nox Fleuret.”

Ravus’s mouth curled. “He is no king of yours, and if I were you, I’d not be so quick to claim him or his son. That house is nothing but cowards. If you wish to serve someone who is worthy of your service –”

“You can stop right there with the recruitment spiel, Commander. I’m not insulting your Emperor, so lay off my king.” Crowe met Ravus’s glare with her own. “I’m here for Lady Lunafreya, so you’ll excuse me if I don’t want to listen to your shit.”

“Watch your _mouth_ in front of the princess,” Ravus hissed.

“Glaive Altius.” That was Nyx, who had appeared behind Crowe in the doorway. “Is there a problem?”

“Yeah, but we can’t kill him without starting a war, soooo…..”

“Glaive Ulric, if you do not have your subordinate disciplined for threatening me–”

“Ravus, please,” Luna interrupted, standing and crossing to her brother. She laid a careful hand on his human arm.  “ _Please_.”

“So eager to protect Lucian’s mongrel dogs, are you?”

“Seems to me, a guy with a demon arm shouldn’t go around casting stones. Imperial Commander,” Crowe added. “And you can just call me a bitch if you want. Save the effort of using all those fancy words.”

“Glaive Altius. Stop antagonizing Commander Nox Fleuret or I’ll have you sent back to Insomnia under court martial for insubordination.” Nyx gave her a significant look. “Am I clear?”

“Yes, Captain,” Crowe said, falling into attention. “My apologies, Lady Lunafreya. Commander Nox Fleuret.”

Luna glanced up at her brother. The demonic energy that infused his blood had changed his eyes, from storm-cloud gray to two different colors of blue and violet. He was undoubtedly a handsome man, but cruelty had turned his familiar, once-loved features into those of a stranger. “Ravus. We are poised on the brink of peace, can we not strive to find it here, and now?”

“Tell Lucis’s mouthy Glaives –”

“ _Ravus_ ,” she said, willing to plead even though she hated it.

His jaw ticked, but he said in a tense voice, “I shall go and make certain the flight path is on course to land in Tenebrae.” With that, he stalked off toward the exit.  

Nyx grabbed Crowe by the arm as she attempted to follow. Luna could see the spark of magic on her palm. “No. No you _don’t_. Do I need to send you back to Insomnia? Seriously, Crowe, what are you doing? Do you realize you could be putting the princess in danger?”

Luna almost opened her mouth, realized this was not her place, and closed it.

“I know. I _know_.” Crowe sighed. “I’m – wow, I just really, _really_ hate that guy. Also, who needs that many belts? And that’s the most impractical coat I’ve ever seen for a soldier. But the unicorn is sure pretty. Too bad I can’t get some fairies and rainbows on my uniform!”

“I. Will. Send you. Back. To. Insomnia.” Nyx was glaring, now. “I don’t know how to make this any clearer.”

Crowe huffed, but eventually gave up and said, “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now, apologize to Lady Lunafreya. Regardless of who else he is, Ravus Nox Fleuret is her brother and she’s had a difficult enough time. She doesn’t need you making it worse.”

“Oh, it’s not –” Luna started, but Nyx gave _her_ a look, and she, too, snapped her mouth shut.

“I’m sorry that I spoke without thinking,” Crowe said to her. “I don’t want to make things worse for you, my lady. Your highness,” she corrected. She did look sorry. “I have a temper, and I…you deserve to be treated better.”

“I’ll be back, I’m going to throw myself out of this transport ship,” Nyx muttered. He sighed, then bowed at Luna. “I’ll make sure my Glaive acts _like a professional_ from here on out.”

“I must admit, I find her outspokenness refreshing,” Luna said, and hid a smile as Crowe stuck her tongue out at Nyx. “But please don’t antagonize Ravus. He is…unpredictable, under the Emperor’s influence.”

That seemed to make Crowe more apologetic than Nyx’s recriminations. “I’m sorry, Lady Lunafreya. I’ll watch my mouth.”

“Thank the Six,” Nyx muttered. “Now, I’m going to go apologize to Commander Nox Fleuret for my Glaive’s bad attitude and apparent strong opinions on military raiment. If you’ll excuse me, your highness.” 

“I wasn’t lying about the unicorn! I liked it!”

“Thank you, Captain Ulric,” Luna said, hiding a wild laugh. “I’m sure he won’t be gracious, but I appreciate the effort even if he will not.”

Nyx nodded, pointed at Crowe with an arched expression, then left them alone.

Crowe grimaced. “Seriously, Lady Lunafreya. I’m sorry. I don’t…it’s not my place to speak to your brother like that.”

“It’s all right,” she said, making her way over toward Crowe. The transport ran into a bit of turbulence, and she stumbled a bit as a result.  

“Woah, there,” Crowe said, holding out her arm to steady her. “You should sit down, c’mon. Seems like it might be kinda bumpy from here on out.” She escorted Luna back to her seat.

“He wasn’t always like this,” Luna said, sighing, as she strapped herself back into her seat. “I’m afraid that our childhood made him inclined to dislike the Lucian monarchy on principle. The Empire invaded – the Niflheim Empire – when we were children. They were attempting to assassinate King Regis and Noctis, while Noctis was recuperating from an injury. The Niflheim general killed our mother –”

“Drautos,” Crowe said, her voice tight. “I know that part.”

“My brother has always blamed King Regis for not helping us, but what could he have done? One man against an army, with a small child to protect?” Luna shook her head. “When Ravus came of age, he joined the Niflheim army. He did well, likely thanks to the structure and discipline, but I never could understand how he fought willingly for our mother’s killers. Regardless, he was…influenced, by Izunia, and took part in the coup that overthrew the old Emperor. He was injured, and Izunia… _saved_ him when he lost his arm. At least, that is the story he gave me.” Luna’s voice was bitter. “Whether or not it is true, I believe the demonic energy given to my brother by Izunia only manifests his bitterness and anger. That is the way of dark magic, to amplify destructive forces. Like calls to like.”

“I’m sorry,” Crowe said, after a moment. “I think sometimes it’s easier to hate the people who couldn’t help us, rather than the ones who hurt us.”

That was true enough, and not something that could be changed. “I have hopes that maybe one day he will come to realize that. But I do not think it shall be anytime soon, if at all.”

“And I shouldn’t have run my mouth and made things worse.”

Luna shook her head. “I don’t think at this point anything you say could make things worse. But I should hate for anything to happen to you, either because of Ravus or Captain Ulric’s displeasure.”

“Oh, trust me. Nyx talks the talk, but uh. He likes that I’m mouthy.” She smiled impishly. “He might get mad at the insubordination and probably _would_ send me back, but in private? He’ll admit it totally got him hot.”

Luna flushed, suddenly realizing she was imagining Nyx pushing Crowe against one of the shadowy corners in the Imperial ship, kissing her and telling her how her mouth was going to get her in trouble…that was not something she should be thinking about. Not now, at any rate.

Ravus’s voice came over the loudspeaker, and – well, that certainly put a damper on any erotic thoughts she might have been having. “We shall be arriving in Tenebrae shortly. The remainder of the flight may be rather turbulent.”

She did not doubt that in the slightest.

***

_Tenebrae_

After spending even a few days in sunlight, the perpetual twilight gloom of Tenebrae seemed even more depressing than before. Luna made her way off the Imperial ship with as much dignity as she could, but already she could feel the stain in the air from whatever Izunia had done to hide the sun.

She was surprised when her brother took her arm before she could join the Glaives at the bottom of the gangplank. Ravus never touched her, and the sharp gasp of pain they both made at the contact was the reason why. Her magic wanted to heal, and his wanted nothing of the kind.

“I – Luna,” he said, using her nickname for the first time in years. “I know I am not what you would wish me to be. I know the things I have done. But I --- it has not been for personal glory that I have done any of it. I take no pleasure in the rank I have achieved or my place in Izunia’s empire. All I wish to do, all I have ever wanted to do, is keep you safe.”

Her heart filled with love and an aching, bitter sadness. _The Empire would take so much from House Nox Fleuret, and I shall never understand why. We were healers of the people and sought to do no ill to anyone._ And while she could sense the truth of his words, she feared his bitterness was still more of a powerful motivator than his love for her ever could be.  

“I will protect you,” he said, fingers of his still-human hand curled softly around her wrist. “Please believe that.”

She stared at him, tears falling unchecked. So long had she wanted to hear this from him! Why now? Was it some trick? Oh, how she hated the Emperor, that she would inherently disbelieve her own bother’s attempts to reassure her, for which she had yearned for years. It could not be a coincidence that she had not heard this until the Emperor had what he wanted from Lucis.

“And did your Emperor tell you to say this to me?”

Though he tried his best to hide it, she could tell that it hurt him. “If you truly meant this, you would let me take the Scourge from you. You would return as the first son of House Tenebrae. You would not stand by his side while he tries to end the world.”

He pulled his arm away, though gently.  “I have said all that I can say.” He saw her tears, and for a brief moment he was – maybe not the boy she’d grown up with, she didn’t think he would ever be that again. But perhaps someone closer than she’d seen in a very long time. “It was less that the Emperor ordered me to speak, and more that he no longer forbids it.” He shocked her further by moving in and ghosting a kiss across her forehead. “I shall escort you and your Glaives to Galahd when the time comes. Teach them better manners by then else I shall be forced to leave them in a slough.”

She gave a choked laugh that was more of a sob; even though she yearned to have him back, to have him say these things and act as her brother, his corrupted soul made her want to be far away from his presence. It felt like a betrayal, and it was one more sin to lay at Ardyn Izunia’s feet. “I do love you, Ravus. Please know that.”

“It would be easier if I could hate you. I have tried. Perhaps one day the demon inside me will take over what is left of the man, and _it_ might. But your brother never shall.” He gave her a bow and turned on his heel to stride back up the ship.

She watched as the plank closed behind him, a lone figure garbed in white and shrouded in shadow all the same.

“Your highness?” Nyx came to her, gently touching her elbow. “May we escort you inside?”

“You needn’t worry,” she said, dully, in a voice still thick with sorrow. Luna dashed at the tears on her face and turned to the Glaive captain. “The twilight is enough to keep the demons at bay.”

“That may be true, but there are more dangers in the world than demons, and I have promised my prince and my king to keep you safe from all of them.” His voice was gentle, and kind. He was a good man.

 _Ravus might have been very like him,_ she thought. _If not for the bitterness he’s tended so lovingly like a garden all these years._

Speaking of gardens –

Luna gave a little gasp, her hand over her mouth. She did not know if she had failed to notice his presence or if he’d just arrived, but there was no denying it – the Emperor was here. “Izunia,” she gasped, when Nyx gave her a worried look. “He’s here.”

He was here, in her field where her favorite flowers once grew.

“Glaive Altius,” Nys snapped, all business. “Escort Lady Lunafreya to the house.”

“No,” she said, drawing in a breath. “He wishes to meet with me and I did promise. He will sign the treaty and then it can be done. I would rather do this sooner than later; his presence in my home disturbs me.”

“Is that why it feels like it’s about to storm?” Crowe asked, which made Luna give her a sharp look of surprise. She flushed a little. “I don’t know a better way to describe it.”

“Because there isn’t one. He is rather like a storm that comes without rain, the type that just destroys instead of nourishes.” Luna glanced at them both. “I don’t suppose I could convince you both to go to the house and allow me this meeting in private? I am in no danger from him.”

“I’m very sorry, my lady, but you cannot.” Nyx gave her a bow. “I will send Glaive Altius back, though, if you wish it. The last person she should run her mouth in front of is the Emperor.”

“I’ll be good,” Crowe promised. Her expression was grim. “I promised to protect her, too, Captain Ulric.”

Luna made her way to the field where the devil awaited.

***

“Ah, my dear lady Lunafreya! How lovely to see you have returned unscathed from your jaunt to the Crown City.” Izunia smiled his serpent’s smile, his bright gold eyes sliding from her to the two Glaives who flanked her. “And you brought souvenirs! I hope they’re not for me, I have _plenty_ of them at home.”

She heard Nyx’s slight inhale, but he did not so much as move a muscle.

“These are Glaives sent by King Regis to accompany me to Galahd. As per your promise in a treaty that has been signed in royal blood, you are to remove your armies from that territory immediately so that I may go and do my work there.”

“Yes, of course, the order has already been given and your brother goes even now to see it done.” Izunia was dressed as casually as he was the last time he’d visited, in that great swirling coat and scarf, his hat perched atop his violet hair. “My congratulations on your success in convincing the Lucian king to accept my treaty. Perhaps I should give you a job as an advisor.”  

“I already have a job waiting for me, your majesty,” she said, loathing every syllable of the title now that she’d spent time around a king who deserved it. “As you well know.” She frowned, recalling Ravus mentioning he would be escorting her to Galahd. “How did you know to give Ravus the order to withdraw from Galahd?”

He merely winked at her, then turned his gaze to the Glaives. His smile widened as he looked at Crowe. “My, but you’re an old soul, aren’t you?” His eyes flickered to the pendant she wore around her neck and he laughed.

Luna tensed slightly, but Crowe merely said, “I’m twenty-eight, Emperor Izunia.”

Izunia threw his head back and laughed. The sound made birds scatter out of the trees around the dead field. “Oh, not at all what I meant, but do thanks for playing along. I can tell you are biting your tongue, my dear, not to say something scathing. You needn’t worry. I’m dreadfully difficult to offend. Go on, little angry bird. Do your worst.”

“Do you wish to see the treaty? I would rather peace take precedence over banter,” Luna said stiffly.

“Plenty of time for _that,_ my dear. But all right. If you insist.” He held his hand out expectantly.

Luna placed her bag on the ground, knelt, and took out the required documents. Her hand was shaking. She did not want to get any closer to him than necessary, but she would not ask the Glaives to do it for her. Drawing her shoulders back, she tilted her chin and made her way toward him, boots striking against the dry dirt where her favorite flowers once grew.

The Glaives drifted behind her like ghosts.

Izunia laughed outright, grinning at her obvious discomfort. It was the closest she had ever been to him, and inside her, her magic wept like rain.

He was a tall man, broad-shouldered even beneath the odd assembly of layers that made up his outerwear. He did not look like a demon, but he felt like one. And he did not blink, not once, as she extended the treaty.

The malice poured off him, and oh, how he hated what she was. _That makes two of us._

The difference was, perhaps, that Izunia merely hated what she presented as a servant of the Light. He did not seem to have much of a care for her as a person beyond her vows. Whereas she hated his allegiance to the Shadow Father _and_ him as a person.

He took the treaty and stared at it, eyes scanning over the words as if he didn’t care what any of them said. When he got to the end of the treaty, where Regis and Noctis both had signed the document in their own blood, he smiled. He lifted the paper to his face, and she would have sworn under oath that he _licked it._

He caught her expression and laughed, again. “My apologies. My soldiers rarely respond with such delightfully appalled expressions. Very well. I shall sign this and we’ll be done with it, hmm?” He held up a finger and bit it, and she thought she saw a flash of pointed teeth when his mouth opened. Too sharp to be human.

Her legs trembled and she felt like she would faint; but she stood there as he held the paper up with one hand and drew his finger with slow deliberation on the paper, ostensibly signing his name. The magic they were using was old, and she felt it like an ache in her bones as he took his time. It wasn’t painful, but it was uncomfortable.

“There we are,” Izunia said with his usual manic cheer. He rolled up the paper and the magic sealed it as he handed it back. “And since the magic seal cannot be broken without rending the contract null and void, I’ll let you in on a secret.” He leaned in and it took all of Luna’s mental fortitude not to pull away. “I even signed it with my _real name_.”

“I shall see this sent back to King Regis,” she said, stiffly.

“And what of my _dear_ fiancé, Noctis? How is he?”

She had to get away from him. She _had_ to. She bowed, never lowering her eyes – which rather ruined the point of a bow meant to show respect, but she didn’t care – and took a trembling step backward. “He is pleased at the prospect of bringing peace to Lucis. As are we all.”

Izunia rolled his eyes, but he said nothing, just watched her retreat like a predator lazily watching prey try and creep past without notice. Luna did not want to be prey, but she wasn’t stupid. Izunia was a predator in every sense of the word, and all she wanted was for him to take his loathsome presence and go. “If that is all, Emperor Izunia?”

“It is, yes, and you have my _dearest_ thanks for performing this task. I do hope to see you at the wedding, hmm?”

“I shall be in attendance if Prince Noctis wishes it of me.”

“Mm, yes of course, of course. Well, then, I believe you should get away from me before I gift _Prince_ Noctis with your mangled corpse as a wedding gift—” Izunia went still as both Glaives drew their weapons and aimed them. “Starting an international incident _so soon_ after peace was declared?” He made a tsking sound. “And here I thought you, at least, Glaive Ulric, would relish the return of sovereignty to your native land.”

Was there anything he _didn’t_ know? Was there a point to any of this?

“I cannot allow you to threaten the princess, Emperor Izunia.” Nyx’s voice was low and direct. He sounded as emotionless as the steel blade he aimed at the Emperor’s throat.

“And I don’t give a fuck about Galahd,” Crowe said, her voice low and angry. “But you’re not threatening her on my watch.”

“Such loyalty you inspire, my dear. Quite impressive, given you’ve known each other such a short time. But it is nothing personal, and I daresay being this close to me is as unpleasant for Lady Lunafreya as it is for me. Our magic simply does not agree, does it, Lady Lunafreya?”

“I _daresay_ that’s true for just about everybody,” Crowe said, before Luna could answer. "It definitely is for me." 

Beside her, Nyx closed his eyes briefly in resignation.  

Izunia grinned in apparent delight. “Oh, but I _like_ you, Crowe Altius. Would you like a promotion? A generalship, perhaps? I do have an opening, you know. Brigadier General Altius, it has such a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

“No thanks. I don’t think I’d look very good with a demon arm.”

“Oh, but my dear,” Izunia purred. “You wouldn’t _need_ one. Would you like to know why?”

“Nope,” said Crowe.

“If we are finished, Emperor, may I request permission for my Glaives and I to withdraw.” Luna hated to ask _permission_ to get away from him – in her own home, at that! -- but she was ready for this audience to be over, and exhausted from the effort of forcing herself to endure his presence.

“Of course.” Izunia’s serpentine smile returned, his cold eyes dead like amber. “But permit me to give you a gift, Lady Lunafreya. A thank you, if you will, for your tireless dedication to _peace_.”

The only thing she wanted from this man was his farewells.  “Peace is enough, Emperor Izunia. I assure you, I am in need of nothing you can give me.”

“How selfless, but you are wrong. There is something I can give you that you most assuredly do need. That you _want,_ more than anything.” Izunia lost his usual false charm, his voice and his expression as cold as his eyes. This was the man who had brought an empire to heel and taken it as his own. “If not a gift, then, think of it as a reminder. That the Shadow Father giveth, and he taketh away…but not always in that order.”  

He tossed something toward her, but Nyx snatched it out of the air before Luna could catch it or make out what it was. Then Izunia gave her a graceful bow, put his hat back on his head and turned to walk away. She could hear him humming some old forgotten song, and he raised one hand in the air and snapped his fingers.

It took her a moment to understand what she was seeing.

”By the _Six_ ,” Nyx whispered.

“By the fucking everybody and their Astrals-damned mothers,” Crowe added, her voice just as quiet.

The three of them were staring at the sky.

The heavy, gray clouds that had obscured the sun the last four years roiled and curled in on themselves like a thunderhead, following Ardyn Izunia like a dog on its master’s heels.  

Luna couldn’t breathe. For the first time in years, the sun shone bright on the fields of Tenebrae.

“This – does this mean anything to you, your highness?” Nxy held out the packet.

She took it from him, but she already knew what it was.

A packet of sylleblossom seeds.

_The Shadow Father giveth and he taketh away, but not always in that order._

Luna fell on her knees in the dirt and sobbed, while the sun broke like a halo around her. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The scene at the end with Luna in the dead sylleblossom field was one of the very first I came up with when plotting out this fic. The idea of Ardyn walking away and taking the clouds with him so the sun could shine is one I was excited to write. 
> 
> Next time: Emperor Izunia returns to his dark capital to attend to matters of state, and Noctis makes plans for his wedding in Insomnia.


	5. in the human name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“What seems more like me, Aranea – that despite my assurances to the contrary I would overrun Insomnia with demons as everyone expects, or that I would enjoy flaunting my status as Consort to the beloved Crown Prince, walking freely about the city despite being the actual, living embodiment of the Starscourge?”_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _“I swear to the Astrals, Izunia, when it comes to you? I don’t actually know anymore.”_
> 
>  
> 
> In which Ardyn makes some arrangements for the future of Empire The Nameless in his absence, promotes one Commodore Highwind, has a chat with his Imperial Commander and sends his intended a gift in the form of a letter (written in purple glitter ink, no less.) 
> 
> And Noctis learns just how complicated royal weddings can be. Especially when they involve an immortal who may, or may not, be trying to kill you via a paperwork technicality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm 100% inventing the idea of blood magic that is used to bind a contract and is only for royals. Because if _actual canon_ can have a dog that either gives you a high-five or _lets you travel back in time_ then I can have this. 
> 
> I have a lot of Thoughts about demons and a whole thing about how they evolve. I tried not to go into too much detail since it's really not that relevant, but hopefully it makes some sense. 
> 
> I am writing this SO FAST because I cannot make my brain do anything else. Thanks to everyone who is leaving comments/kudos, I'm glad you're enjoying it!! :D

_Gralea_

Emperor of a nameless empire, Starscourge and newly-engaged consort-to-be Ardyn Izunia made his way through Zegnautus Keep in Gralea, giving a cheery wave to the MTs that stood guard.

Well. They weren’t really standing guard, they were mostly just _standing_. Motionless. One of the first things he’d done after deposing the previous emperor was to drain the demonic energy from the MTs. It left them looking like statues poised in mid-fight, guns raised and blank eyes staring at nothing.

There was one in the room he used as his office, gun pointing at whomever had been in the chair when Ardyn’s demons had taken the Keep in that final fight. Ardyn hadn’t bothered moving it, but not so much because it was a symbol of his grand triumph or anything like that. The barrel of the gun made a particularly convenient coat hanger. Ardyn took off his hat and placed it on the MT’s head. “Good robot. Stay.”

He settled in at his desk and put his booted feet up, then let his mind open.

The demons were there, of course. Not the essence that he’d used to make the MTs, the same that sang under the ground and manifested as the non-sentient creatures that terrorized Eos in the dark. No, these were the actual, sentient beings that made up his army.

One of them was outside his door.

“Yes, come in,” he called, and the thing was there – smoke and shadow, clad in armor darker than the night sky with its slitted red eyes gazing on him with adoration. At least, Ardyn liked to think it was adoration. Why not. “Hello.”

“Dread Lord.” The demon bowed respectfully. “Those who were on the island are returning to you.”

Demons spoke in ways that could be very puzzling to discern, depending on how long it had been since they’d achieved sentience.  This one was speaking of Galahd. “Were you there, soldier? On the island?”

The demon cocked its head like a puppy. Honestly, despite the fact they were merciless killers they really weren’t all that terrifying. “Yes, Dread Lord.”

Ardyn had never once told the demons to call him _Dread Lord_. He thought it might be the term of respect for Diabolos, but had never asked. “And did you leave enough of an _impression_ to keep the Oracle and her hounds busy?”

“Yes, Dread Lord.”

“Good, good.” Ardyn smiled, indulgent as he always was when things went his way. “You’ve done well, soldier. Yes, very well…I think you’ve earned to right to choose what you shall be called.”

The demon straightened. Pride radiated off it. To be called by something – a name of its choosing – was a vital step in moving through the stages of the demonic hierarchy. From what Ardyn had learned over the years, demons began as a simple essence (that had once infused the  Magitek armor), coalesced into monsters, and then eventually evolved into sentient beings like the one standing so proudly before Ardyn. Earning its own name would eventually allow the demon to choose its own form, and once that happened, they could pass for human quite easily if they wished. Some of them were a bit too fond of wings for that, but still.

It was a bit like watching feathers turn into a baby chocobo that turned into a chocobo that turned into a human.

“I wish to be…Arrow.”

Ardyn tried not to roll his eyes. Demons were not that original at this stage of their evolution, and they _did_ spend the majority of their time fighting in an army. Still, how he longed for one to tell him it wanted to be named something like _Moogle_ just for some variety. “A fine thing to be called, Arrow. Now come, tell me your true name and we shall make it official, hmm?”

The demon – Arrow – approached him. Ardyn tilted his head and the demon leaned down, and then it – whispered, for lack of a better word – in Ardyn’s ear. The noise made no sense to him, was a series of what sounded like clicks and hisses, but it was the demon’s true name, the one given to it by Diabolos. Supposedly the knowledge of a demon’s true name was what one used to control it, but Ardyn was not sure how that worked, precisely, because he couldn’t exactly _speak_ the language. And yet.

Really, he was making all this up as he went along. He reached out…and tapped the demon on the helm of its face armor. “Run along and bedevil as you see fit, Arrow.” That seemed to be enough to cement its name and make it move along the evolutionary ladder.

The demon bowed, and then it twisted and faded until it was gone.

Ardyn let the dark and the quiet soothe him. Occasionally he thought maybe he’d just gone mad, that he was sitting alone in an old imperial weapons complex, talking to nothing. That the world trembled at the very thought of an army that did not exist. Or that there wasn’t a world at all beyond these walls, and that he was just making all of it up and the only one trembling was him.

The thought bothered him more than he wanted to admit.

Ardyn heard footsteps in the hall and opened his eyes. Human footsteps, boots clicking against the grated floor. They sounded real enough.

“For the love of the damned, Izunia, can’t you turn on some lights for the non-hellborn among us?”

Ardyn smiled widely at the voice. Ah, a bit of banter would soothe his uncharacteristic existential angst quite nicely. “And make things _easy_ for you, Commodore Highwind? Have you _met_ me?”

“Yes, more’s the pity.” Aranea leaned against the entranceway to the office. “I don’t understand why you want to be Emperor and yet you basically live in an office the size of a closet in an old Magitek production facility.”

“Why, to distinguish myself from the stuffy emperors of glory days past, Commodore. Why do you think?” Ardyn watched her move around the office. She was completely human – all his generous offers of enhancement had been summarily declined – but she saw incredibly well in the dark.  

“I think you’re crazy,” she said, succinctly, leaning against the door. Niflheim had been an empire for so long before he deposed Aldercapt that sycophancy was something of a national epidemic. Ardyn found her refusal to even consider it refreshing. “I also think you need a plan before you recall every single regiment back to Gralea. Or do you intend to break your word and overrun Insomnia with demons after your wedding?”

“Oh, come now, would I do that?” He smiled charmingly at her.

“I hated that smile when you were the chancellor, and I hate it now.” She leaned her lance against the wall and crossed her arms over her chest. “So no demon invasion, then? Wow. I admit, I thought all along that was your plan. Even had money on it. Damn.”

“What seems more like _me,_ Aranea – that despite my assurances to the contrary I would overrun Insomnia with demons _as everyone expects_ , or that I would enjoy flaunting my status as Consort to the beloved Crown Prince, walking freely about the city despite being the actual, living embodiment of the Starscourge?”

“I swear to the Astrals, Izunia, when it comes to you? I don’t actually know anymore.”

Ardyn smiled – it wasn’t his chancellor’s smile, not this time. “You know how I feel about that particular expression, Commodore. There are so many more useful things to swear to. Your lances, your stunning cleavage, the Scourge, a coeurl, you decide.”

“My _stunning cleavage_?”

“It’s rather remarkably displayed in that ensemble you’ve fashioned, there.” Ardyn’s expression eased into a leer. “Why the outrage? Am I not supposed to notice? Perhaps you should invest in a jacket, if so. We _are_ surrounded by snow, and you’re human enough that you can’t possibly miss that.”

“No, you are not supposed to notice my cleavage.” She tossed her hair. “I don’t wear it for you. And I thought you weren’t into sex with humans.”

Ardyn laughed. “You listen to too many rumors, Commodore. Ask Commander Nox Fleuret.”

“Yeah. Who isn’t human.” She waved a hand. “Or is…kinda inhuman. My point is, you wouldn’t even know what to do with me.”

Ardyn took his feet down from the desk and patted his lap. “Come sit on my lap and let’s see if that’s true. I’ve been alive a _very_ long time. I might surprise you.”

She gave him a thoroughly disgruntled look. “When was the last time you fucked an actual woman? Nox Fleuret is pretty and all, but he doesn’t count.”

Ardyn studied the ceiling, thinking. There were parts of his life that were a blur, because there were no plans to set in motion, nothing to be done but wait. People always thought they wanted free time but having a thousand or so years of it felt less like being _free_ and more like being entombed. He did have a rather spectacular career as a stage actor for a bit, he remembered that. It was where he got the hat. “Ah. As to that, I’m not entirely sure. I think perhaps…when did the mountain blow up? Somewhere around then, I think.”

Aranea snorted. “I’m going to resist making the joke. How about answering my question about the army, since you’re in such a sharing mood?”

“What do you mean, what will they _do_? The Empire is still mine after I marry the fetching Prince Noctis, Commodore. They’ll come back here. There’s plenty of space. They’re demons. They don’t precisely need housing, and in case you haven’t noticed, they like to live in groups.”

“But there are regular people that live here,” she reminded him. “As in, humans? I’m not the only one.”

“Yes, and they are free to continue living here. They same rules still apply. The demons shall not harm any citizen of the Empire within its confines. They can move to Lucis with no repercussions if they like, I don’t care. And the demons shall…frolick demonically, I suppose. It’s not as if they become bored.”

“Are you sure?”

He thought about it. No, he wasn’t sure, not really. “Permit me to rephrase. The ones who make up the bulk of my army do not become bored. They are newly self-aware and the world is a fascinating place to them. All they want is to evolve.”

“And that’s a good idea? Just letting them…breed and live and evolve like that?”

_And why shouldn’t they? Humans have made an utter mess out of things, so much so that the Astrals themselves are forming covenants and imbuing geodes with prophecies to govern a kingdom. I can’t see how Diabolos’s children can fuck it up any worse._

“That,” Ardyn said, in a gentle voice, “Is what I have promised the Shadow Father, my dear. The price I have paid for the covenant. Demons are natural creatures and when they are not being hunted or infused into machinery –”

“Hey, that was your idea!”

“I never said it wasn’t,” he said calmly. “Do stop interrupting me, hmm? You asked for an answer and I’m giving it to you. If you have further questions, save them all for when I’m finished.”

“You’re like a stuffy college professor,” she muttered. “Sorry. Go on.”

He made a face at her. “As I was saying, when they are not being hunted or infused into Magitek, they’re simply trying to exist same as we are. They have their own hierarchies and honestly, I see no reason not to leave them to it.” He leaned back in his seat. “I’m a benevolent ruler.”

She gave him a look like she didn’t believe that for a minute. “But who is going to keep order among the _non-demonic_ population if you’re in Insomnia?”

“Oh, I’m going to assign co-regents – one human, one demonic – to oversee things while I’m playing house with the Crown Prince. I know exactly the demon for the job, and perhaps if you’re not busy, you’d be interested in taking on the responsibility for your fellow humans? Since you are the only one to express any concern about their welfare.”

“I…literally walked right into this, didn’t I?” she asked, wryly. He didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to. She had, and they both knew it. “Ugh. I don’t know if I’m impressed by you or annoyed. No, wait. I’m definitely annoyed. I think maybe sometimes I’m impressed, but that just annoys me more.”

“Are we done, here? If you stay there flashing your cleavage at me any longer, I may perhaps be tempted to see if I can, indeed, recall how to pleasure a woman after all these years.” He didn’t mean it – he found her amusing and competent, and if fucking her was the price to pay for her allegiance he would have done it. But it wasn’t, and the idea of doing it simply for the sake of sex had never crossed his mind.

“Please never say _pleasure a woman_ in front of me again, Izunia.” She paused. “Who is it? The demon you’re going to assign to be co-regent. Can I tell it apart from the others because all I know is, most of your army looks like the same guy and I swear half of them are named _Arrow._ ”

Well, she wasn’t wrong about that. “Requiem. She’s evolved enough that she could pass for human if she wanted. Demons do not break their hierarchical structures easily, so you should find her capable of maintain order among the legions.”

“She?” Aranea blinked. “There are girl demons?”

“There are just _demons_. Requiem has evolved to choose a name _and_ a form, and the form she chose is female. Not quite as, ah, aggressively _robust_ as your own, though.”

“Take your regency job and shove it where the sun wouldn’t even shine if you _invited_ it, you conceited, crazy asshole.”

He made a _tsking_ sound and shook his finger at her. “I swear, Highwind, were I half the monster I am accused of being, I would have strung you up by your fingernails and skinned you alive by now. I’m your _emperor_ , you know.”

“What I know is that you don’t really give a shit about any of this. It’s all just a means to an end for you, isn’t it? Your empire doesn’t even have a _name_ , Izunia, and your Imperial capital is an outdated weapons factory full of broken robots.”

“That one isn’t broken.” Ardyn pointed to the MT that served as his coat rack. “It’s the perfect length to keep the hem of my coat from trailing on the ground.” He concentrated for a moment on where Requiem was, and got a vague impression of…steam valves? Ah. “Requiem is in Lestallum. I shall summon her back at once to meet with you.”

“Sure. When is this wedding by the way, and as co-regent of Empire No-Name, do I have to go?”

“I shall likely take Ravus,” Ardyn said. “And the point of making you co-regent is for you to take care of things while I’m away. I’ll put together some reports for you before I go. The food situation is one of the first we’ll need to address, after you get an accurate account of how many humans we have as part of the population. We’ll have to import after the treaty is signed. Perhaps I can get a discount given my newfound status as Prince Consort.”  

“I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but if you weren’t definitely crazy and probably evil, you’d be…not half bad at the administrative part of running an empire.”

Ardyn’s small was completely lacking in warmth. “How flattering.”

“Not going to lie, though. I will totally and unabashedly laud the person who manages to pull one over on you without you noticing. It’ll happen one day. It always does.”

Ardyn let his usual charm and affable nature drop entirely. “And what makes you think it hasn’t happened already?”

“Because I can’t believe Idiot Aldercapt was smart enough to pull a sweater over his own eyes, much less the wool over someone else’s.”

Ardyn shrugged. “He was the product of years of entitlement, and likely inbreeding. One day, let me tell you about this absurd plan he’d concocted to use Lucis’s magic crystal to melt the snow of the Glacian’s ire.”

“Story time with the Emperor,” she said, but she _did_ look interested. Which was a bit flattering. “All right, so, one last question. You’re recalling the Imperial Army, but are you dissolving it? And if so, what are you going to do about Nox Fleuret?”

“Ravus is coming with me to Insomnia. I’ll make him an ambassador. He’s the only non-demon….or, I should say, non- _full_ demon officer anyway.”

“And he dresses more like an ambassador than a High Commander.”

“Says the woman who is showing more skin than the Glacian’s frozen corpse,” Ardyn said, enjoying his rare moment of blasphemy. Such as it was.

“And, that’s enough of you for me. Congrats on the upcoming wedding.” She snickered. “I still can’t really believe you’re getting married. I admit to a certain lurid fascination about what you’re going to wear.”

“I haven’t quite decided, but I’m certain it will be flashier than my intended in all his unrelieved, funereal black. Now, do go away, Aranea. Or I’ll give that MT your job and you can stand still and hold my coat for eternity.”

“I’d definitely let the hem touch the floor.” She snapped off a salute, a nonsensical response given he was no soldier, and left him alone.

Ardyn thought about what to do next. He could feel a few demons – the non-sentient ones everyone called _monsters_ – moving about the Keep, but none were so bold to approach him. A pity. It might have been nice to have a pet.

What a shame Ravus wasn’t there. Ardyn was in the mood for a bit of distraction, and he always did enjoy fucking his Imperial Commander over his desk. But Ravus was in Galahd being stoic and tragic, and alas, Ardyn would have to entertain himself.

He took a paperweight off his desk. It was shaped like a raincloud and etched in the glass, in a darker blue meant to represent rain, was the phrase _Visit Scenic Vesperpool!_

Perhaps it would be a good time to send a gift to his intended.

Ardyn put the paperweight down and opened his desk drawer. There, kept in an astonishingly neat row by color, size and thickness, was a collection of pens. Ardyn _loved_ pens. Other than cars, they were by far his favorite when it came to inventions developed in the course of his long life. Only someone who’d been forced to correspond with a quill and a small bottle of ink for _actual eons_ would know the simple pleasure of a pen that could just… _write._ It was rather like being able to speak in full sentences after centuries of having the hiccups.

And they came in various sizes, in all sorts of different colors! With different tips, and thickness of ink. And these little miracles could be refilled or simply tossed aside when one became bored with them! Truly a marvel.

Ardyn settled in with his favorite pen – the ink was purple, rather like his hair, with a bit of a shimmer  – and some crisp paper and began to write. His script filled up the page, and he found himself humming an old tune as he wrote. He read over the letter when it was finished, signed his name with a flourish, then added a wax seal in dark black just for a bit of flair.

Then he slipped the folded letter into an envelope, addressed it and grabbed his hat before he headed out of his small office into the communications room.

The demons he passed on his way all stopped and bowed. Ardyn tipped his hat in response, feeling the demons pleasure in his acknowledgement. That would be different in Insomnia. He doubted anyone there would be as happy to see him. The thought made him smile widely at nothing as he entered the communications room.

He sprawled in a chair and tapped the edges of the envelope on the table as he initiated the commlink.

“Imperial Commander Nox Fleuret,” Ravus said, in his usual clipped voice.

“Ravus, hello! And how is Galahd treating you?”

“Your majesty.” Ravus’s voice gave nothing away. “The withdraw is nearly complete. I estimate another forty-six hours before it is done, at which time I shall make my way to Tenebrae to collect the Oracle.”

“Very good, Imperial Commander. Oh, one thing – do take a moment to stop by Insomnia on your way, would you? I’ve a gift for my intended that I should like him to have.”  

“And what sort of gift is that? Me?”

Blinking, Ardyn was torn between surprise at Ravus’s daring and _delight_ in his unexpected response. He gave a soft laugh. “You know, the reason I keep you around is that despite all evidence to the contrary given your personality, you don’t _bore_ me.”

Ravus’s insubordination and prickly nature was far more subtle than Aranea’s, and for whatever reason, Ravus was one of the few people Ardyn had actually wanted to fuck in the last five centuries or so.

“You flatter me, your imperial majesty. But my question remains the same. The treaty is not to be in effect until your marriage, which means we are still in a state of open hostilities with Lucis. Presenting myself to the kingdom is tantamount to offering myself as a political prisoner. If that is your intent, I should like to know ahead of time so that I may make the appropriate arrangements.”

“If it were, I find it amusing to think I would have to run it by you, first,” Ardyn said, amused. He wondered what sort of arrangements Ravus would make. He pushed a few buttons on a control panel to the left of the one he was using, wondering idly what they did and if something, somewhere, was going to explode. “I simply wish you to deliver a gift to the gate, much as you delivered your sister. If this is beyond the scope of your abilities, do let me know.”

“A gift,” Ravus said, bluntly. “Am I to pick it up and wrap it for you, too?”

“It would seem someone is feeling a bit _familiar_ ,” Ardyn murmured, shifting to once again stack his boots up on the desk. “That tone in your voice, usually I have to put you on your back and something in your ass for you to relax enough to use it.”

“Ardyn, I have not slept for two days. The people in this town have attempted to _spit on me_. Small children throw garbage at me. Oh, and they live in hovels that even rats have abandoned – I know, because the rats are very interested in the ship, and trying to climb upon it.” Ravus sounded disgusted. “Not that I blame the rats.”

Ardyn laughed in honest delight. “I do hope you’ve taken pictures.”

“Yes, well, it would seem I’m quite good at spearing rats on my sword. Which, by the way, six people asked me if they could have for dinner. _After_ they spit on me. This place was an unholy mess before anything unholy set foot on its soil. Oh, and the locals do not seem to differentiate much between you and your predecessor.”

Ardyn could care less about that. He’d been beloved, once. It wasn’t that different from being hated, not really. “You are truly a man of many talents, and an integral part of my success, dear Ravus.”

“Your praise means nothing to me,” Ravus said, which Ardyn knew to be the truth. He’d earned Ravus’s loyalty easily enough, by promising to keep his sister safe – both from the Empire, and from ending up Noctis Lucis Caelum’s bride. “And I am aware I am speaking to you in a fashion no man should use in speaking to his emperor. I apologize.”

“I do not tend to speak much like an emperor, and besides. Your loyalty to me is not proven through pretty words, and we both know it. Now, about my little errand for my intended. Are you feeling too petty and irritated with your liege to do as I’ve asked?”

“As if I have any choice,” Ravus scoffed, echoing similar words spoken by his sister. “But I shall do as my Emperor bids, of course. How, though, are you to get this gift to me? I must protest at the idea of doing the shopping on your behalf for Noctis.”

It was an odd thing, when you’d lived as long as Ardyn and were the avatar of the devil himself, to be genuinely amused. “What, you don’t wish to buy him his trousseau? Is that still a custom? It was for some time, I believe.”  

“I know less about marriage customs than I do about shopping, Ardyn.”

Ravus hardly ever used Ardyn’s name when they weren’t in bed. He really must be out of sorts. “Dear boy. There’s no shopping required, I promise. It’s simply a letter. I shall send it to you by way of a demon, and perhaps something that isn’t a rat for your dinner.”

“Save it. Seeing what has become of a human settlement overrun by the Scourge…I have little appetite as it is.”

“Whiskey, then?”

“Have you ever seen me drink?”

“Once or twice,” Ardyn said, and smiled at the slight hitch of breath that particular tone of voice earned him.

Getting Ravus Nox Fleuret to moan in pleasure was about as easy as conquering a small, heavily-fortified and incredibly stubborn kingdom. That was fond of fire arrows. Ardyn had been singed more than once, but scars only made the victory all the sweeter.

“Not while on duty, your imperial majesty,” Ravus responded, stiffly, and clearly his momentary lapse into conversing with Ardyn as if he were a human being -- of any percentage -- was over. Honestly, Ardyn had his doubts that even immortality would thaw his icy commander.

_I wonder if Ravus understands that he’s immortal because of that arm. I shan’t tell him. Far more interesting if he figures it out on his own._

“Tell the ungrateful Galahdians that along with the Oracle, the Emperor shall, in his infinite generosity, send some food that is not of the four-legged rodent variety.”

“I shall. Is there anything else?”

“No. Let me know when you’ve completed my task.” With that, Ardyn ended the commlink. He summoned one of the winged demons, this one named Garnet, to take the letter to Ravus. He supposed he could have had the demon take the letter to the Lucian gate. Likely it was better at conversation than his Imperial Commander. 

His gift to Prince Noctis on its way to Galahd to be delivered, Ardyn had little else to do. He went back to his office, found his favorite pen and took out a book half-filled with his notes about the demons. He found himself quite interested in chronicling their evolutionary process, and the things he’d learned about their hierarchies and behavior had already filled up five other previously empty journals.

He had been accused of many things, in both his mortal and immortal life. Some were terrible, some were beautiful, some were true and some were not.

But no one had ever accused him of brevity, and likely never would.

***

“Ow!” Noctis winced as the pin jabbed at his ankle. Again. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I moved. My fault.”

“Your majesty, please,” the tailor said, sounding harried. He closed his eyes. “The thought of my inevitable execution for turning the Crown Prince of Lucis into a pincushion is not making my hand any steadier.”

“You won’t be executed,” Noctis promised the tailor, who was attempting to fit Noctis for his wedding suit. “But I’ll get lectured, and I don’t like that, either. So I’ll try and stay still.”

The tailor, who had likely fit Noctis’s father for _his_ wedding suit, sighed in apparent disbelief. “Perhaps this is enough for today. Allow me to make a few notes, and we can continue at another time.” He got to his feet, wrote a few things on a small pad of paper and reached out to tug and squeeze places Noctis would really rather him not do either.

When the tailor vanished from the fitting area, Noctis looked at the guard behind him in the mirror and pointed. “Not a word. Seriously. Don’t laugh.”

“It’s just,” Prompto said, ignoring both sets of instructions, “I can’t tell who’s more miserable. You, or him. He should just let you take a nap, you won’t move for hours.”

“I can’t sleep standing up,” Noctis said, and then thought about it. “I don’t think. Wait. You might be on to something.”

Prompto smiled. He was serving as Noctis’s official Crownsguard today, so he was all decked out in his uniform, his gun strapped to his side. Prompto was the only guardsman who used firearms, so the royal armory had made it especially for him. He called it Lionheart, after a weapon used by his favorite RPG character. He’d been insistent it needed a name, because he was Prompto.

They were in the royal tailor’s well-appointed store on King Street. As Noctis waited for the man’s return, he looked up to see the television coverage of the ongoing withdraw of Imperial troops in Galahd.

_Today, Imperial Commander Ravus Nox Fleuret officially left Galahd on route to Tenebrae. Sources say he will return with the Oracle, who, according to terms of the upcoming treaty between Izunia’s forces and the Kingdom of Lucis, will seek to heal the people from their long indenture under the Scourge._

It wasn’t just the Scourge, of course. But Aldercapt’s empire, the first to send troops and subjugate Galahd, was old news by now. Noctis smiled when he saw Luna on the television in Tenebrae – now saturated with sunlight.

“Luna’s looking good,” Prompto said, following Noctis’s gaze up to the television.

“As the Oracle, I shall do my best to see that every last vestige of the Scourge is taken from those who dwell once more in the light,” Luna was saying, very earnestly. Her dress was soft white, her face sincere, her blue eyes wide and determined.

Noctis smiled. “She is.” He was proud of how she was so obviously flourishing in the role she’d been denied for so long. It felt right, seeing her like this – poised to go out and heal like she was meant to do.

Behind her, he could just make out Glaive Captain Ulric and Glaive Altius. Noctis wondered if Luna had worked up the courage to kiss Crowe yet, then realized he could actually text her and ask. Before, they’d been forbidden such contact and had to rely on Umbra.

“Man. So you two…if you’d have gotten married…you don’t think maybe you would have…?”

“Is there a noun in that sentence anywhere?” Noctis asked, though he was sure he knew what Prompto meant.

Prompto tilted his head. “Wait. Is that right? Noun? I don’t think that’s right, dude. Don’t you mean object? Or wait. Verb?”

“Do I? Maybe?” They stared at each other. Noctis smiled. “Guess I’m not the Chosen Prince of Grammar.”

“You weren’t even a distantly-related baron of grammar, according to your English teacher,” a crisp, familiar voice said. It was Ignis. He was frowning, which Noctis had learned to stop taking personally when he was six. “Your highness. We must return to the Citadel.”

“Has something happened?” Prompto asked, straightening up, his hand resting lightly on his firearm.

“Yes, but it is…unwise to speak of it in public,” Ignis said, as if the royal tailor was a hotbed of intrigue and suspicion. “It would seem your intended bridegroom sent you a gift. It is waiting for you at the Citadel.”

“Iggy, you are like, the worst. What is it? Person, place or thing?” Prompto demanded.

Noctis was struggling with his outfit, pinned in places he wasn’t sure he was supposed to unpin, but he didn’t know how to get it off otherwise. Ignis, forever adept at everything, came to help him with steady, sure hands.

“The latter. It appears to be a letter. Commander Nox Fleuret delivered it to the gate this morning, on his way to Tenebrae.”

“A letter?” Noctis exhaled, slowly. That didn’t sound so bad. Of course, maybe he shouldn’t relax quite yet. Paperwork from Izunia was the reason he was getting fitted for a wedding suit, wasn’t it?

The tailor came in, all frowns. “What are you doing, lad?” Before Noctis could start laughing at someone calling Ignis _lad,_ the tailor continued. “I don’t tell you how to advise the Crown Prince, so do not tell me how to fit him for his suit. Step _away,_ Lord Scientia, or I shall make sure the cuffs on your next pair of trousers are uneven by a miniscule amount.”

“You monster, you wouldn’t,” Ignis gasped, but he dutifully stepped back so that the tailor, whose name was Vesta -- first or last, Noctis wasn’t sure – could divest the Crown Prince of his pieced-together wedding clothes.

Noctis dressed in the plain dark jeans and black t-shirt he’d worn to the shop while he waited for Vesta to fill out _an actual appointment card_ (which he immediately handed to Ignis) for his next fitting. The three of them made their way back to the Citadel. Noctis tried not to groan as they headed to the council chambers. He’d spent way too much time there of late.

Noctis’s father, Clarus and Gladio waited for him inside. On the table was a single envelope, the usual kind that came fifty to a box for a handful of gil. It had Noctis’s full name on it, written in the most elegant script he’d ever seen. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“It’s been checked for magic, but I’m still going to open it,” Gladio said, taking a step forward. “Not taking any chances.”

Someone had ostensibly been opening Noctis’s mail his entire life, because he never did it himself. He got a lot of correspondence, mostly from lovestruck young girls and boys who wanted to be princesses or princes, and most of those were answered with a form letter.

Prompto, when he’d discovered that, made Noctis send him one, too. He’d hung it up in his room, and then later, in his Crownsguard locker.

Gladio took up a letter opener that was placed next to the innocuous looking letter. He sliced it open, and everyone took a collective breath.

Prompto made the softest of explosive sounds next to him. Noctis snorted quietly.

 “Just a letter,” Gladio said. “But I should point out that the ink is purple and maybe has glitter in it.” He turned the letter this way and that. “No, it definitely has glitter. I got Iris a whole set of these pens for Yule a few years ago.” He handed the letter to Noctis.

Noctis glanced down. Like his name, the letter was written in beautiful script – and yes, the ink was purple. More of a glimmer than a glitter, but he let that go in favor of reading.

_My dear Prince Noctis,_

_I do hope you will forgive the informal address, given that we are soon to be joined in joyful matrimony. Permit me to introduce myself --  I am Ardyn Izunia, Emperor, former Imperial Chancellor, avatar of the Shadow Father and your future consort. Let me first extend my gratitude that you have agreed to our union, and please consider the following gift a token of my esteem._

_As I am sure you are aware, my army has withdrawn from Galahd as requested. In fact, I gave the order a day before I received your majesty’s response to my proposed treaty, and I am certain that has caused some concern among your retinue. How, you are likely wondering, did I know your choice would be Galahd if the lovely Lady Lunafreya had yet to return with your answer?_

_You may think that my role as avatar to the Shadow Father allows me supernatural abilities, and it is through those I managed to glean this information. As it happens, the truth is much more mundane. I must regretfully inform you that there’s been a spy in your midst for some time now. I must also regretfully inform you that I was the one who initially engaged the services of this individual, tasked to do so during my tenure as Imperial Chancellor by my predecessor. This individual has been providing information to the Empire for quite some time, and it was through him that I learned of your desire to liberate Galahd._

_The gentleman in question labored under the belief that your fair city would one day fall to the might of the Imperial forces, and that by sharing certain secrets of state he might ensure for himself a position of greater power and wealth. Please know that I made no promises, merely assured him that I would reward him appropriately when the time came._

_As I shall soon be counted officially as a member of House Caelum, the only appropriate reward I can offer this individual is a charge of high treason. I am not certain how such is handled in Lucis this day and age, but I trust it will be to your satisfaction and leave the method entirely in your capable hands._

_As to the identity of this individual, I feel that his behavior in the meeting where you pledged your loyalty to the people of Lucis by accepting my proposal is damning enough. But just in case, I shall give you a clue – when I was bid approach a member of the Royal Council by my predecessor for the purposes of counterintelligence, I selected him simply by virtue of his initials. At the time they referred to a military force believed to be quite superior to your own, and the secret to what my predecessor hoped would be his eventual victory. I suppose I appreciated the irony of it -- or the coincidence, for I must confess I often have trouble differentiating between the two._

_I look forward to the day when we shall bring peace to Eos in truth, my Prince._

_With warmest regards,_

_Ardyn Izunia_

Noctis read the letter twice, then handed it to his father without a word. Clarus, who had no sense of personal space when it came to his King, read over Regis’s shoulder.

“Is that true, what he said about Galahd? How he knew before he should have?” Noctis asked. He hadn’t heard about that, but then again, this was all happening so _fast._

“Yes.” Clarus’s voice was tight. “Glaive Captain Ulric contacted the Marshal soon after they arrived in Tenebrae with Lady Lunafreya. The Imperial Commander was already under orders to withdraw the army from Galahd before Lady Lunafreya spoke a word to Emperor Izunia about what had been decided in the council.”

Noctis’s eyes narrowed. “No one said anything to me about that.”

“With all due respect, your majesty,” Ignis offered smoothly. “It’s only been a matter of days, and you’ve had quite a bit on your plate.” He, too, was reading the letter. “I’m assuming the implication is that the treasonous councilman is Marcus Troilus?”

“But he argued against accepting the Emperor’s terms,” Noctis pointed out, though of course that’s what he thought, too. “If he worked for the Empire, wouldn’t he _want_ to see Izunia here?”

“Not necessarily,” Ignis said, slowly. “The terms of the forthcoming marriage are fairly straightforward when it comes to Izunia’s title and position within the kingdom of Lucis, and while there is some status to being Prince Consort – and later, King Consort – it is hardly the same as being an emperor. It could be that Marcus, if he is indeed our spy, needed Izunia to come to Insomnia as a conqueror, not a groom.”

“Oh, Marcus is the spy, all right.” Noctis said, grimly, as the rest of Izunia’s words clicked into place.

“We should remember that his bad behavior alone does not prove him guilty of anything but…well, being a bit of an ass,” Ignis reminded them all. “I know he is not well-liked here, but that isn’t sufficient grounds to assume he is the spy referenced in Izunia’s letter.”

“Maybe, but he’s definitely talking about Troilus,” Noctis argued. “The thing about the initials, remember? Marcus Troilus? MT? Magitek? You guys are following, right?”

“We are. And Marshal Leonis shall have him brought in for questioning.” Regis glanced off to the distance, looking kingly and rather sad. “I have known Marcus since I was a child. It saddens me that someone with whom I spent my childhood would be capable of such betrayal.”

“You didn’t like him when we were kids, either,” Clarus reminded the King. “I’m not sure you’re remembering that.”

“Perhaps I should have been kinder to him,” Regis mused.

“Being the king doesn’t mean being everyone’s friend, remember?” Noctis pointed out gently. “You told me that when I said I hated Gladio.”

“Thanks,” Gladio said, dryly, giving his Prince a bow. “Appreciate that, Noct.”

“Oh, I told you the same thing when you said Noctis was an impossible, spoiled brat,” Clarus reminded his son. “That you had to keep him alive, not like him.”

“Thanks,” Noctis said, in the same tone, giving Gladio the same bow.

Gladio grinned at him. They’d long since gotten over their earlier dislike, and Noctis found the moment of levity quite welcome.

“I shall inform the Marshal and we’ll have Troilus brought in for questioning,” Clarus said. “I have a feeling if he _is_ the spy, it won’t take much to get him to admit it.”

Prompto cleared his throat and half-raised his hand like they were in class. “Uh. So, what happens if he’s found guilty? That’s treason, right? And don’t you get…uh. Executed, for that? ‘Cause, um. I’m not into treason but I’m also not into being on a firing squad. You know. Either side.”

“It is a possibility, but unlikely,” Clarus assured him. “It is reserved for an attempt on the life of the king, but even then, that’s up to the king in question. In most cases the punishment is exile, but I doubt he’d survive long if Izunia is willing to give him up. So that leaves imprisonment, or work-release.”

“Or he can fall on his sword,” Gladio added. “But I doubt that one he carries is sharp enough. Maybe a letter opener.”  

“May I remind you that he is not, of yet, guilty,” Ignis pointed out, ever the voice of reason and responsibility. “I’m aware of the likelihood and as angry as any of you at the idea we’ve had a spy in our midst, _again_ , but I am not comfortable discussing sentencing before a trial.”

“Count Scientia is correct,” Regis said, though Gladio and his father exchanged a look that said clearly, _just let us hit him with sharp things and be done with it._ “First, we will have him questioned and see if he even bothers to deny it.”

“Bet he’ll sing like a canary, those kinda guys always do,” Prompto said, wisely, as if he spent his days dealing with royal subterfuge and hadn’t just _raised his hand_ to ask a question about possible punishment for high treason. He cleared his throat. “I mean. You know. In movies, they do.”

Regis smiled a bit. Noctis knew that his father was very fond of Prompto – it was sort of impossible not to be, but then again, Noctis was kind of biased. “I think that is all. Noctis, if you would allow Clarus to have this?” He held up the letter.

“Yeah, fine. As long as I get it back for my wedding scrapbook,” Noctis deadpanned.  

“Dude,” said Prompto, sounding horrified. “Don’t even joke about that. The wedding or the scrapbooking. Ugh.”

“Your majesty. If I might have a word with you?” Ignis asked, migrating to his side once the King and Clarus had left with the letter, on their way to find the Marshal.

“Sure, Specs. What’s up?” Noctis leaned against the long council table.

“I would prefer we do this in private,” Ignis said, more stiffly than usual. “Your royal apartments, if we may.”

“Hey, that’s usually my line,” Prompto teased, but he must have picked up on Ignis’s serious disposition – even more than usual – because his smile faded and he simply went back to standing at attention. Or trying to. Sometimes when it was just the four of them, his natural energy made it impossible for him to stand still.

Noctis would much rather climb into bed with Prompto and all his excess energy than have what was undoubtedly going to be an uncomfortable meeting with his advisor, but such was the life of a Prince. “Sure, that’s fine.”

When they arrived at Noctis’s apartments, Ignis turned to Prompto and Gladio. “If you would conduct your usual sweep to make sure the rooms are secure, and then allow Prince Noctis and I some privacy?”

“Wait, you meant privacy from us, too?” Prompto looked hurt, as he always did if he were excluded from something. “You know there’s nothing … I’d never betray anything you said, Ignis.” His chin lifted, blue eyes flashing. “I’m not an MT.”

“What are you talking about?” Gladio asked, staring at him. “Of course you’re not an MT. Those don’t work anymore, meaning you’d be quiet once in a while. And maybe stand _still._ ”

Prompto went red. “I mean. I’m not an MT like, I’m not a Marcus Troilus? A traitor?” He glanced at Noctis. “You got that, right? It was like, slang?”

“I got it,” Noctis assured him.

“I’m aware of your discretion and very thankful for it, Prompto. And I know few can claim to be as loyal to his majesty as you are. But this is a private matter and I do not wish to discuss it with anyone save his majesty. Please do not make me pull rank on you, but I will if I must. I’m asking as a friend.” Ignis gave Prompto his version of the puppy-eyes look, which was just a slight tilt of the head but always, without fail, worked on Prompto.

“Oh, well, yeah, why didn’t you just say it was friend stuff, then?” Prompto clapped Ignis on the shoulder. “Obviously that’s different. Sure thing, buddy.”

Noctis could tell that Ignis both wanted to take the opening and correct the misassumption, but in the end, he did nothing but wait as Prompto and Gladio made sure the rooms were secure. When they were alone, Noctis said, “Okay, what is it?”

“I have been doing a fair amount of research into the treaty you signed upon your engagement. How much do you know about the magic that binds you and your father to following the contract?”

“Uh. I know it’s…sealing magic? That it’s old, blood magic stuff. Right?”

“Yes. Only kings or those of royal blood can use that type of magic. It was intended only for the sort of agreements upon which rests the lives of many people. As so often happens throughout history, the fate of many hinges on the actions of only a few --”

“Less lecturing, more getting to the point, Specs.”

“My _point_ is that this magic is binding in a way that cannot be undone. Not even the Crystal has this sort of power, because this is magic formed by the blood and will of man -- and to break it is to declare both forfeit.”

“Right,” Noctis said, tossing his coat on the couch. He longed to follow it and bury his face in the cushions for a nap. “If I don’t do what I said, I’m toast. I got that, Iggy. I really do. I’m not lying when I say I’m ready to do this for Lucis.”

“Yes, I know you are. You are not my problem, Noctis.” Ignis did smile, then, but it was brief. “For once.”

“Yeah, don’t get used to that.” Noctis glanced out of the window. The sun was setting; another day coming to an end. Another day closer to his wedding. “Okay, so, what’s your problem? Is it Izunia?”

“Of course it is Izunia. I have been scouring the documents – both the one you signed upon your engagement, and the one you will sign on the day of your wedding – looking for any way Izunia could use the binding magic to do what I so fear he wishes to do.”

“What do you mean?” Noctis gave up and sat on the couch, figuring it was a happy medium between standing and going face-first into the cushion.

Ignis crossed and sat opposite Noctis. “If you fail to do what you’ve promised, you and the King’s lives will be forfeit. If this is somehow discovered after your marriage…Noctis, who do you think will rule Insomnia if you and the King are dead, and there is no heir of Lucian blood?”

Noctis blinked. “My – my consort.”

“Ardyn Izunia will become King simply because there will be no one else left.” Ignis’s expression was grim.

Noctis stared at him as something else occurred to him. “Wait, though. Ardyn Izunia is apparently immortal, right? And like. Really immortal, it’s not just a nickname?”

“That is what we have been told, yes.”

“So if he wants to be king, all he has to do is wait for me to die,” Noctis pointed out, reasonably enough. “And then – what? He can’t call forth the Scourge, it’s in the treaty and I know that still counts after I’m dead. He’d end up violating it and…well, not die, but what? End up tormented for eternity or something?”

“That is the assumption, yes. But that’s the thing, Noctis. The treaty does not forbid you from naming an heir. Just that it cannot be of the Lucian line or of your blood.”

“So then…what does he _want_?” Noctis shoved his fingers through his hair, frustrated. “None of this makes any sense. Does he know that I could just assign another heir and it would ruin is plan? _Is_ it his plan?”

 “As to that, we have no way of knowing but given how skilled the man seems to be in wordplay, I should say he knows full well that it’s within the law for you to designate an heir of your choosing and not violate the treaty. But if you _were_ to violate the treaty, Noctis, that is where things become dicey. It would take your life, and your father’s, and _the treaty itself would be invalid._ ” He was quiet for a moment, giving Noctis an expectant look.

This was like doing logic problem homework. Noctis was tired and stressed out and worried about a thousand different things, and he wished Ignis would just _say_ it already. “Meaning that he could do whatever he wanted – including calling forth the Scourge and taking Insomnia. Without the threat of eternal damnation or whatever.”

“Yes. So either he thinks there is something you _cannot help but fail_ , or his endgame is something else entirely – both options which I find equally terrifying. So, I must ask you – is there some chance, _any chance at all,_ that there exists a child with Lucian blood? A possible heir to the Lucian throne?”

“Uh, you mean, besides me?” Noctis realized what Ignis was asking and shook his head, though he could feel his face heat at having to talk about his sex life. “No. Iggy, you know I’m not interested in women that way. You were the first person I told after Luna, remember?” He’d done it because he knew he needed to tell his father, and because he’d suspected Ignis was the same way.

He was. Ignis nodded. “Yes. And I know my uncle, in an attempt to…see if that was valid or just me being stubborn, once hired…” he cleared his throat and waved a hand, the tips of ears going red. “I am just making certain that is not something that has ever happened to you.”

Noctis stared at him. “No, Specs. No one hired _a prostitute_ for me. What is wrong with your uncle?”

“He doesn’t believe it possible to be – you know, it doesn’t matter. The point is, Noctis, if there is a child out there and it’s yours—”

“Yeah, no, there really isn’t,” Noctis choked out. “Uh. Prompto’s the only person I’ve ever been with.”

“I rather thought that was the case, but I had to ask.”

“You could have asked me that in front of the others,” Noctis pointed out. “I mean. It’s not like I care if Gladio knows that I’ve only ever had sex with one person, though maybe you don’t want them knowing your uncle hired a hooker for you.”

“Gladio and I are married, he already knows that. And you’ll tell Prompto regardless. That was not what I needed privacy to discuss with you.” Ignis smiled a bit tightly. “Though I did have to ask the same question of the King, and that was a dreadfully embarrassing conversation. Especially since I know he did have quite a reputation in his youth before he married your mother, he and Clarus were quite known for threes--”

“That’s my _dad_ , Specs,” Noctis protested, fingers in his ears like he was a child. “Stop!”

“My apologies. But I did want to be certain. My concern, and the thing that I…need to discuss with you, lies within Izunia’s use of the term _marriage_. If he can prove your marriage isn’t valid, then it could be enough to prove that you’ve invalidated the treaty.”

“Isn’t valid? What? How? It’s legal, come on, you know that better than anyone. You’re married to Gladio!”

“We are nobility, Noct. We’re not _royalty._ The laws are a bit different in that regard.”

“How?” Noctis demanded. “It’s legal for the king to marry another man, or the queen another woman. It’s just not done unless there’s an heir, but I didn’t think that was a _law_. If it is, can’t it be changed?”

“I despair if you think laws are changed on the whims of kings, in a civilized monarchy,” Ignis said. He was one of the only people who could say _I despair_ and really make it sound like he meant it. “But that is not the issue. The problem is…Noct, do you know what an annulment is?”

“Yeah. It’s when someone’s marriage is dissolved for like…infidelity or something?” He blinked. Was Izunia going to try and use Prompto against him?  

“Infidelity would be grounds for divorce, not annulment. Divorces require both parties approval, even in the case of monarchs. In an annulment, however, it only takes party to dissolve a marriage. And that claim is refusal to consummate. It’s a very…well, the rule is clearly designed with the concept of heirs in mind, and for a time when women’s sexuality was far more heavily regulated. But it does, I’m afraid, apply in this situation as well. If Izunia wishes, he could challenge the validity of your marriage on the grounds that it was not consummated. If that’s true, it would be dissolved. And you would be in violation of the treaty.”  

Noctis finally got it. “So you’re saying I have to fuck him.” Or did Noctis have to fuck Izunia? By the Six, this was complicated. 

Ignis closed his eyes. “Without a doubt, this is the most abhorrent thing I have ever suggested in my time as your advisor. I am tempted to resign for even thinking of it in the first place. I can only tell you that it is my fondest desire to see you safely through this marriage and to become the King I know in my heart you will be, a king that I will proudly serve until death. But the very thought of what I’m about to suggest makes me deeply, deeply ashamed, uncomfortable, and, frankly, sick to my stomach.”

Iggy, because he was Iggy, opened his eyes and insisted on maintaining the most intense eye contact ever when he finally, _finally_ got to the point. “It is my suggestion, as your advisor, that we draft into the wedding agreement that you and your consort consummate your marriage on your wedding night. This will ensure it cannot be annulled. And if you never wish to lay eyes on me again for making it a binding contract that you let that man put his hands on you –”

“It’s fine.”

Ignis blinked, clearly worked up and not expecting Noctis to say anything. “I – it is _not_ fine, Noctis.”

“No, but…” Noctis shrugged. It was hard to explain. “I wasn’t…look, if I’d married anyone else, basically anyone who wasn’t Prompto, I’d have do, uh, do this anyway, right? And yeah it would have a lot better, like on a different _planet_ better if it was Luna, but…you don’t need to look at me like you just ordered my beheading. It’s fine. Really.”

“I’m asking you to _willingly subject_ yourself to the most intimate of experiences with a man who may, or may not, be entirely human –”

“Maybe you should stop while you’re ahead and not make it worse?” Noctis felt strangely calm, though he doubted that would last for very long. “It’s not like I have to do it more than once, right? Does it…uh. Does it have to say who…?”

“I think it best if there be no question, so you should both…assume both positions.”

Noctis laughed. He couldn’t help it. He laughed, and one look at Ignis’s face made him laugh harder. It was probably ten percent amusement and ninety-percent hysteria, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t.

_Ignis has to write in my marriage contract that I fuck a man on my wedding night and that he fucks me, just so magic won’t kill me over a paperwork technicality and cause the world to be overrun by demons._

_I’m literally in a fuck or die story. Wait until I tell Prompto. He loves those._

“Your majesty,” Ignis said, very gently. “Sex, for you, is clearly an important way to connect with someone for whom you care a great deal. So I know this is difficult. As I said. This is a terrible thing I am suggesting, but I hope you understand why I’m doing so.”

 “Yeah, I mean, I’m – I’m –” He couldn’t say he was _glad_ exactly, but it was hard to know _what_ to say. Ignis looked so upset, and that was maybe the hardest thing of all. “You’re trying to keep me safe, Specs. I get it. Okay?”

Ignis nodded. He took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. Noctis wondered when the last time was that he’d slept. “Yes. Of course. I’m simply…well. A bit horrified at my own mind.”

“I’d rather not die, kill my father and condemn the world to the Scourge on a technicality, okay?” Noctis wasn’t entirely comfortable with physical affection, it had taken him a long time to even get to that point with Prompto. But he reached out, carefully, and put a hand on Ignis’s shoulder. “Please. I can’t do this if you’re disgusted with yourself. I need you on my side, and trust me. This is…the definition of being on my side.”

“Of course.” Ignis put his glasses back on and gave him a tired smile. “I’d hoped one day that my help in preparing you for your wedding would be far more joyful. Even if it wasn’t to the man you love, at least it would be to someone you had some kind regard for, or the potential would be there for developing it –”

“Iggy? _Stop_. Really, stop, you’re making it worse.”

Ignis gave a sharp nod and a bit of rueful smile. “Yes. My apologies. It’s a gift.”

“I bet.” Noctis fiddled with his phone. “I’m going to tell Prompto. I have to.”

“Of course.” Ignis was the one to reach out, now, careful to see how his hand on Noctis’s shoulder was received. “We are all going to be here for you, Noctis. Nothing will change that.”

Noctis nodded and watched as Ignis made for the door. He knew that this wasn’t exactly over – he was going to have to tell Prompto, and that wasn’t going to go over well. Not the thought of sharing with Noctis with someone else – Prompto likely had less of an issue of that than Noctis himself did. Just the thought of who it _was._

It was then that it occurred to Noctis, in a vague sort of way, that he had no idea what his future husband even looked like.

But Prompto was walking in, looking very worried-boyfriend, and for some reason the thought slipped away, out of Noctis’s mind like smoke.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. I went there. Sorry? I just love a good fuck or die scenario, and while this isn't _that_ , exactly, the idea of these two being forced to consummate their marriage on the wedding night was just. Too good for me to pass up.
> 
> Next time: HEY, GUESS WHO'S FINALLY GONNA BE IN THE SAME CHAPTER??


	6. if you are the dealer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “But you hate me,” Noctis said, to make sure he had this clear.
> 
> Izunia’s smirk never faltered. “Oh, yes,” he breathed. “Make no mistake about that, my dear, _dear_ Prince Noctis. I hate you with all the black ichor in my heart and the rot in my veins.” The way he said it, though, it almost sounded _fond_. “And every last poisoned drop _is all for you_.”  
>  ____
> 
> In which Prompto deals with his boyfriend having a dramatic moment, and Noctis deals with his fiance being nothing _but_ a dramatic moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Damnatio Memoriae is a real thing that the romans did! i remember learning this and being like, how annoying would it be if some roman official shows up at your house all /can i have all your coins, we gotta chisel that dude's face off real fast >>
> 
> also i SWEAR this fic has a happy ending. eventually. for everyone. really! i promise! (and the ardyn/noctis content isn't non-con, though i know it might seem like it's going that way given the whole 'fuck or die' trope and their mutual dislike, but...trust me i have a PLAN because sassy backtalking switch noctis = my true love don't @ me. actually feel free to @me on tumblr i love talking about these idiots a lot???) 
> 
> finally ardyn izunia is like the reason italics were invented and i'm sorry i use so many of them writing him /o\ 
> 
> thank you for reading! i'm delighted people like this story it's so much fun IM OBSESSED WITH WRITING IT

_If you are the dealer_

The only one who asked Prompto straight up how he felt about about Noct’s upcoming wedding was Gladio.

“So.” Gladio sprawled on the steps next to him, watching as Prompto inhaled a post-training bottle of water. It felt like his lungs were trying to jump out of his chest. “You okay with this?”

“Uh.” Prompto dragged in a deep breath, hoping it didn’t come out as a wheeze. Gladio’s effortless coolness was both inspiring and daunting in equal measure. “The not breathing thing? Not really, but it usually works itself out before I pass out.”

Gladio smiled and knocked Prompto’s shoulder with his own. “Cute. You’re real cute. That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

He _didn’t_ though, that was the thing. Seriously, Prompto felt like he was about to die, who could think when even blinking was too much effort? “Right now. All I can. Think about? Is breathing.” He tried it again. Marginally better, he was no longer making a sound like a sad, deflating balloon. So. Progress.

Gladio’s smile turned into a grin. He shook his head and drank his own water, slowly, and managed to look hot and capable at the same time, because of course he did. “I mean about Noct and the demon.”

“Sounds like a band.” Prompt leaned back on his elbows, the rough stone cutting into his skin. _Oh, beautiful oxygen. I will never take you for granted again._ “No? I mean. I don’t see how I could be. The guy’s a creep, and I kinda. You know.” Prompto made a hand gesture. “Don’t want my boyfriend to marry a creep.”  

“Yeah.” Gladio studied him, his warm dark eyes as perceptive as ever. “But also just the part where he’s marrying someone else, creep or not.”

The thing about Gladio was that people saw him – tall, built like a god, usually smiling and not wearing a shirt, that hot-as-fuck tattoo and abs that probably had a cult following – and thought he was all brawn and no brains. But that was the thing about the King’s Shield. You had to be observant as fuck, and Gladio was smart and good with people and that meant that he was not in the market for the shit Prompto was trying his hardest to sell.

 “I always knew he was going to marry someone else.” Prompto shrugged, trying to look unconcerned while not making it obvious how he was still gasping slightly for breath. No easy feat.  “You know. That whole, kings gotta beget other kings thing? Since I didn’t want to risk ruining my girlish figure with kids, kinda figured I wasn’t in the running.”

“Uh-huh. You know I don’t like your jokes when I’m asking you a serious question.”

“Do you ever like my jokes?” Prompto sighed at the mulish look that got him. Gladio clearly wasn’t in the mood for banter. “I mean, yeah, it’s weird. Like I always thought Noct would marry Luna, you know? I’m mostly just worried, same as everyone else.”

 _Worried_ was a pretty tame word for what Prompto was feeling. His boyfriend, the love of his life, was going to marry the _evil emperor who was maybe a daemon._ How the fuck did anyone think he was going to feel about that?

“Figured it might make you kinda mad. If the Prince could marry a man, then…seems like maybe you’d resent it’s not you.”

Yes, excellent, this was exactly the kind of perceptive shit Gladio was good at that Prompto was decidedly _not_ in the mood for. “Glad we’re having this talk, man. Real helpful.” Prompto scowled at him. “I’m as royal as this water bottle. Except, no. This water bottle has a label saying it’s from the Citadel _._ I don’t even have _that._ ”

Prompt idly rubbed at the tattoo on his wrist, hidden under the leather cuff he always wore. Yeah, he had a label all right. Only it didn’t proclaim him to be anything close to royalty.

“Doesn’t really matter when it comes to how you’re feeling, buddy.”  

Seriously, couldn’t Gladio just be, like, a stupid meathead jock? “You want me to tell you that it makes me mad that I can’t marry him instead? Duh. Geez, Gladio, wouldn’t _you_ marry him to keep him from Creepo McDemonlord?”

“Creepo McDemonlord,” Gladio repeated, dryly. He shook his head. “Prompto, if it would work? I’d divorce Iggy and marry Noct to keep him out of _Creepo McDemlord’s_ clutches. And I don’t even need to ask to know I’d do it with Iggy’s full blessing.”

“Um. Yeah, well, don’t? Noct’d just feel bad if you did that.” Prompto made a face. “And you’d have to give back the wedding gift I got you guys.”

“You want a framed picture of me and Ignis that bad, just take another one.”

Wait, that’s what he got them for a wedding gift? Prompto was referring to the super fluffy, comfy blanket that he claimed every time he went over to their apartment. Maybe the blanket was a birthday gift for Ignis, and the picture was for the wedding? Not the point.  “It was a good picture!”

It was a good blanket, too. Maybe he should just get himself one.

“Sure, but do you think we could talk about _you_ for a second?”

Prompto looked away, but he could feel Gladio’s gaze on him. Gladio did everything the same way he fought; with a focus that wouldn’t waver, an implacable resolve and a pair of tight leather pants. “Why? It’s not like it matters.” Well, that sounded dramatic, didn’t it? But it was true.

Prompto _didn’t_ matter, not when it came to all this royalty and succession shit. And honestly, he wasn’t that broken up about it.

Gladio’s warm hand came down to rest on Prompto’s shoulder. “You matter. Especially to Noctis.”

“I know that.” Prompto tried for a smile. “I mean. I bet Emperor Demonbreath can’t even _play_ King’s Knight.”

“A little piece of advice? Stop selling yourself, and what you mean to the Prince, short. Okay? I think it’s gonna be important. You never do think you’re worth as much as the rest of us know you are.”

“Fuck, Gladio,” Prompto muttered, blinking rapidly. Something in his eye. Lots of dust on the wind, just like that song. “I’m not _mad_ at him, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“By the Six, I swear you are as stubborn as my sister. I’m worried about _you_. Because you’re my friend.” Gladio finished his water, having consumed his at a much more sedate pace because his lungs were apparently made out of the same iron as the rest of him. “And it’s fine if you’re mad about the situation, you know. Seems reasonable. Hell, I’m mad _for_ you.”

Prompto was never sure if Gladio and Ignis had approved of his relationship with Noctis at the beginning. They’d become close only after Prompto joined the Crownsguard, which he did only a year ago in any official capacity. Before that, he was simply the commoner kid who dragged Noctis to arcades, introduced him to King’s Knight and posted a Youtube video of Noctis trying to warp drunk between the Citadel towers that had to be taken down after Ignis nearly had a coronary.

“Thanks, big guy. But, like. I know why Noct is doing this. And it’s important!” Prompto laughed. “And be honest. Can you imagine me as the Prince Consort? The future _King Consort?_ ”

Gladio should be laughing at the very idea, just like Prompto. Why wasn’t Gladio laughing?

“Actually, yeah,” Gladio said, his voice ringing with sincerity and kindness. “I can.”

“Well. Ha! Don’t let Iggy hear you say that. Or the King. Or literally anyone.” The conversation was sparking his usual restless energy, the kind that said _hey you should try running right now and see how that works out for you_. “I bet you gotta go to a lot of stuffy parties. Not my jam.”

“You have to go to them now,” Gladio pointed out. “As a Crownsguard.”

Prompto shrugged, picking at the label on his water bottle. “Easier when it’s a job and no one’s paying you any attention.” He didn’t want any of that. All he’d ever wanted was Noct.  

“Uh-huh. Well.” Gladio got to his feet. “Look. Me and Iggy, we get it. You’re welcome at our place any time, okay?”

Prompto winked, shoving all his feelings down in favor of his usual irreverence. “Aw. Is this just ‘cause you and Iggy want a threesome? I told you that offer was only good for your bachelor party weekend.”  

“No wonder you and Noctis fell in love. Whenever the two of you have too many feelings that you need to talk about, he can just nap through all your attempts to change the subject.” 

Yeah, that was no lie. “Hey. It’s worked so far.”

Gladio rolled his eyes. “Iggy’s making dinner, if you want to come by.” He gave Prompto a look. “And that offer’s for green curry soup, not my hot body, you thirsty bitch.”

Prompto gave a bark of laughter. “Thanks, but I promised Noct I’d stop by.” They didn’t have a lot of time left before the wedding, and while everything was up in the air as far as what would even _happen_ afterward, Prompto did want to spend as much time with Noct as he could. “Besides. I’m sure Ignis is stressed and I don’t want to show up and get on his nerves.”

Gladio knocked him upside the head, hard, because…well, Gladio. “You know we like you, right? I like you. Ignis likes you. Most people do.”

“That is a recent thing with Ignis and you know it,” Prompto protested, jumping to his feet. His body ached in a good way, the _I used all my muscles and didn’t end up broken_ way. Training with Gladio was one of his favorite things, even though Prompto’s skillset would always be in ranged attacks courtesy of his affinity for firearms. “I used to give him migraines.”

“That’s all on Noct, not you,” Gladio said, one big hand reaching out to ruffle Prompto’s hair. “And it’s been years since he cursed your name at the Astral shine. Promise. You know where we live if you change your mind. Bring Prince Charmless if you want. He can eat around the small amount of cilantro in the soup.”

Prompto snorted, and they fell into a companionable silence as they walked toward the elevators. He stopped Gladio before they got there, a light touch on the absurd muscles that made up Gladio’s tatted-up arm. “Hey. Thanks. Really, I do appreciate it.”

Gladio grabbed him for a bone-crushingly amazing hug. “Good. It’s gonna be okay, Prompto. Don’t worry.”

The thing about being the King’s Shield – or future King’s Shield – was that you sort of had to be an optimist by nature. _Sure, I can stop that rain of bullets. A giant sword cleaving toward your spine? No prob. A daemon with sixteen rows of teeth? I got this._

Or maybe that was less optimistic and more _delusional_ , but either way, Prompto wasn’t feeling it. Still, he gave Gladio a smile and headed up toward Noct’s apartment, trying his best to pretend like he believed it.

***

Noct was wearing a pair of running pants and an old t-shirt of Prompto’s, slouched on the couch and playing a video game when Prompto let himself in to Noct’s royal apartment.

Their apartment? Prompto wasn’t quite sure. He had his own small room as part of the Crownsguard, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent a night there. The thought that he might have to sleep in the narrow bunk bed was depressing. And not only because sleeping with royalty meant a new appreciation for the concept of high thread-count sheets, either.

The absence of the stupidly hot boyfriend was at least 95% of the reason. The sheets though, yeah, definitely the other part.

“Hey.”

Noctis glanced up, his dark blue eyes tired and rimmed a bit with red. It didn’t make him any less attractive, but the fact he’d been worrying enough to miss a nap because of the situation…well, that made Prompto less inclined to ogle Noct’s hotness and more inclined toward concern.

People teased Noct about napping all the time. Noct made fun of it himself, too. But all it took was one look at King Regis, or hell, the dates on the plaques beneath the royal portraits and how _short_ they were compared to a normal lifespan to see why.

Being a Lucian king in proximity to the Crystal was not easy, and Noct was determined to conserve his strength. And honestly, with those sheets no  _wonder_ he liked naps so much. 

“Hey.” Noct’s voice was soft as he gave Prompto a small but genuine smile. “How was training?”

“Hand-to-hand combat with Gladio,” said Prompto, which was answer enough. “So. You know. I’d rather go hold that meteor for a second and give a Titan a break than, like. Walk up stairs ever again.”

“You’re so dramatic.” Noct dropped the controller and patted the couch. “C’mere. I almost beat your high score.”

“The fuck you did.” Prompto narrowed his eyes at him. “On Expert? You lie. My liege and future king, a liar. Woe, the betrayal. It _burns_.”

“What about you calling me a liar? Treason,” Noct intoned. “Call the guards.” 

Prompto winced. “Too soon, man. Too soon.” They were both still a little taken aback by what had happened to Marcus Troilus in the wake of Izunia’s damning letter.

 _I was trying to save us all from the weakness of the line,_ Troilus had been screaming, all but foaming at the mouth when they’d confronted him. _The kings of Lucis are a dying breed. It’s time for someone with real power to be in charge!_

Whether he meant himself, the deposed Emperor Aldercapt or even Izunia was unclear. Troilus had been found dead in his cell a few hours after he’d confessed to everything. No one knew how he’d gotten the poison, but at least it saved the debate about capital punishment that Prompto was not looking forward to.

Prompto had been worried about finding himself on firing end of a firing squad, until Cor mentioned offhand that traitors were generally beheaded by the King’s Shield. Prompto had seen Clarus Amicitia play the Lucian national anthem on a kazoo while drunk, once. He really didn’t want to replace that image with Clarus slicing someone’s head clean off their body while they knelt in supplication in front of the throne they’d betrayed.

“How about we see who gets the high score in _fuck Prompto in the shower_ , huh, buddy? You’re a lot better at that than every first-person shooter game there is.”

He wished he could the words back the second he heard himself say them. Joking with Gladio was one thing, but there was a time and a place to crack a sexual innuendo with Noctis and this was neither. Intimacy did not come easily to him, especially sex.

It was a combination of Noctis’s reserved nature, his childhood injury, and watching his father age prematurely that made Noctis hyperaware of appearing vulnerable or weak. At some point he’d gotten it into his head that sex made him both of those things. It had taken a long time to work through the tangle of Noct’s issues, and Prompto – being young, horny, and stupid in love – had almost fucked it up more times than he could count. Noct wouldn’t even let Prompto watch him _come_ for almost a year after they started dating.

They’d worked it out, for the most part, but they’d had seven years together to muddle through it. And okay, fine, Prompto still sometimes forgot that sex wasn’t just about satisfying a physical need or even expressing attraction for Noctis – it went way deeper than that, to the emotional connection that was the core of what they were to each other.

Which was why the whole so-called _wedding night codicil_ made Prompto sick to his stomach. Noct hated to be touched by people he had no emotional connection with, sexual or otherwise. The idea that Noct would have to _fuck and be fucked by_ someone he both didn’t know and didn’t trust…yeah. It made Prompto want to punch something, even though he understood why Noctis had agreed. What other choice did he have? To save a kingdom and end a war, what _wouldn’t_ a king worth his crown do?

“About that,” Noctis said, and all the alarm bells went off in Prompto’s brain, including some alarm bells that were maybe functioning as alarm bells for _other_ alarm bells. It was noisy in there, and the accompanying feeling of dread didn’t help. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Prompto didn’t like where this was going at all. “Okay. Now, or after I shower?”

Noct unfolded himself from the couch with his usual languid grace. “I was gonna do it now, but…maybe after.” His eyes warmed a little. “I just want things to be normal for a little while.”

Prompto nodded and held out a hand. It was a careful gesture, not demanding, just an offer. “Wanna come with me?” He knew by now not to take it personally when Noctis needed a moment to think about his answer.

Noct didn’t take that long, though, and reached out easily to slip his hand in Prompto’s. “Lead the way.”

They didn’t fuck in the shower, but they kissed and lazily jerked each other off under the unending stream of hot water. By the time Prompto gasped into Noct’s mouth, knees shaking from the pleasure of his release, the bathroom was full of steam and the alarm bells were somewhat muted.

After all, Prompto tried to tell himself. They weren’t seventeen anymore, stumbling through the minefield of Noct’s issues and Prompto’s inexperience.

The sex made it easy for Noctis to press up against him on the couch while they waited for their dinner to arrive, warm against Prompto’s side. Prompto played with Noct’s eternally messy hair as he waited for Noctis to say whatever it was he wanted to say.

“You can see other people. If you want.”

Oh, no. Not this again. “Seriously. Dude. You _promised_. We were on the couch in your old apartment, and you _promised not to bring this up ever again_ , you pinky-swore, Noct. _Pinky-swore._ I think – no, I know! – I have a picture somewhere. Evidence! Don’t think I won’t go through years of files on my laptop to find it because _I will_ , my dude. I will.”

Noctis sat up, half his hair dry and half still wet from where it’d been smushed against Prompto’s shoulder. He put his hands on Prompto’s shoulders, looking very serious and also ridiculous. “Prompto, listen to me. This marriage, it makes everything different.”

“It does not make the _I promise, Prompto, I won’t tell you to fuck other people for your own good again_ conversation null and void, Noct. Princes can’t lie!” Prompto tugged his hair, frustrated. This was not the first time Noctis had tried this. “Just, no. No, okay? This didn’t work on me in high school and it’s not working on me now, dude, so just…stop.”

Noctis did not like the word _no_. His face took on the _I’m the future King and you have to listen to me_ expression that had never worked on Prompto, ever. “This isn’t the same thing at all.”

Oh, Astrals. “My ass it isn’t. Last time it was all, _Oh, Prompto, I’m sorry that I can’t be your boyfriend and you deserve someone who can take you the dance and -_.”

“I do _not_ talk like that, wow.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t _work_ like that, either, Noct.” Prompto wanted to shake him. In fact, that seemed like a good idea, so he did, his hands on Noct’s shoulders. “I told you that I wanted to be with you and I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. Have I acted like my answer’s changed in _seven fucking years_ , you royal moron?”  

Noctis drew away, seeking space, and Prompto let him have it. Noct drew his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, lost beneath his bangs and his angst and tucking himself into a small ball like an angry hedgehog. Then he said softly, “What if I don’t want to have sex anymore?”

So that’s what it was. “I’ve got a hand, Noct. I know how to use it. I just demonstrated in the shower and guess what, works kinda the same on my own dick as it did on yours. Sex with you is great, Noct – it’s fucking amazing, but it’s because I’m having it with _you_.”

Noct slowly uncoiled and put his feet on the ground, as if he no longer felt the need to make himself the smallest possible target. That was a good step. “I’m pretty sure that when he’s finished with me, there’s not going to be anything left of me that you’ll want.”

It felt like Noct had pulled out one of his swords and jabbed it into Prompto’s heart. “You’re – no, Noct. I’m never not going to want you.” Prompto could hear his own voice trembling a bit as he reached out, carefully, to take Noct’s hand in his. “Remember what I said when I knelt in front of you and took my vow? _Ever at your side_. I meant it then and I mean it now. I always will.”

“You said that the day you became my Crownsguard,” Noct reminded him, but he was holding tight to Prompto’s hand. “When you took your vow to keep me safe. It has nothing to do with agreeing to put up with – with the rest of it.”

“If you think I said that to you just as your guard, then you haven’t been paying attention the last seven years.” Prompto felt his mouth curve into a smile. “I’m your lighthouse, dude. Luna said so, right? So stop being a broken boat and let me, uh. Do my lighthouse…thing.”

“Wait. What?” Noctis cocked his head. “Lighthouses don’t _fix_ boats, dude. Pretty sure they have mechanics for that.”  

“Okay, _Ignis_ ,” Prompto said, and Noctis cracked an actual smile. “Can we just accept that no, I’m not leaving you for an easier boyfriend and leave my poor metaphors alone?”

“No, ‘cause you were so busy being dramatic that you didn’t hear what I _said_.”

“Oh,” said Prompto, wondering who would behead him if he strangled Noct. Gladio? Probably. Well, at least he wouldn’t fuck it up, Prompto had seen him cut a melon in half with one sure strike of Ignis’s kitchen knives. “Oh, okay, Noct. _I_ was being dramatic. Me. Right.”

“I meant you could be with someone _in addition_ to me. For the, uh. Stuff I’m not good at.”

Prompto took both of Noct’s hands in his and gazed into his boyfriend’s stupidly pretty dark blue eyes. “But, dude. Iris is the only one who likes first-person shooters and she’s not quite as good as you are. Relatively speaking. Yet.”

“I really, really hate you,” Noctis said, but the look on his face said anything but. “I’m trying to be serious, you know that, right? And tell you how fucked up this is and fucked up it’s gonna make me, and I’m already fucked up so –”

“That’s what I signed up for, dude. And I know you’re the prince and all, but it’s getting kind of old to tell you again and again that I get to decide for myself what’s worth sticking around for.” Prompto pulled him in and kissed him gently. “I didn’t leave when you told me that it might take you forever to want to have sex. I didn’t leave when you told me that you might never be able to be anything in public but my friend, and I didn’t leave when you told me _you were going to have to die to fulfil an ancient prophecy_. Dude, honestly, do you need me to like, print this out and tape it to your mirror? Because I don’t know what to do at this point.”  

“You – I’m – I don’t know either,” Noctis said, picking up a game controller. “No, wait. I _do_ know that I’m like, a thousand times better than Iris at first-person shooters. Ugh. I can’t believe you think she’s almost as good as me.”

“Put your gil where your mouth is, your highness, and let’s see about that.” Prompto ducked just in time as the second controller came sailing at his head.  

In the morning, Prompto had to get up earlier for training so he took a shower, then drew a chocobo on the mirror in the fog and underneath it, wrote _ilu idiot_ with a little heart. And Gladio said they couldn’t communicate. Shows what he knew.

***

It should have been a joyous moment, the one where he saw himself for the last time in his wedding suit before he got married. At the very least, it should have been full of ribbing from his friends about his upcoming nuptials. Instead, Noctis stone there, stone-faced, looking with detachment at his reflection in the mirror. It was a nice suit, royal black, and it fit him well. If he’d been marrying someone he actually liked, he might have even smiled.

As it was, he gave Vesta a nod and said, “You did good work.” It felt like he was thanking the man for crafting his funeral attire. Probably sounded that way, too.

Vesta gave a polite bow in response. “Thank you, your majesty, I’m so pleased you think so.”

“You are truly an artist,” Ignis tried, but while the words were well-meaning, his smile was his courtier’s smile and it didn’t reach his eyes.

“You won’t look bad in the pictures, at least,” Gladio offered.

“Not that you ever do,” Prompto added. He flushed a bit, as if maybe he shouldn’t have said that. But their relationship, while not precisely public knowledge, wasn’t exactly a secret. “But the suit, yeah. Good look on you.”

“I think we shall be off, then,” Ignis said, in an attempt to curtail Prompto’s spiral into TMI. “Thank you, again, Vesta. For the exquisite work on his majesty’s behalf.”

“It is my deepest regret that his majesty is not marrying someone worthy of the sacrifice he is making for all of us,” Vesta intoned, giving Noct a sad look like he was about to close the coffin lid.

It wasn’t the first time in recent days that Noctis had been the recipient of that sort of sentiment. They would have been easier to handle if he’d been _actually intending to die,_ though.

“Lucis is worth much more than me,” Noctis said, awkwardly. Astrals, at least if he’d had to give up his life for the Crystal he could have done it in private.

“And you are worth much to Lucis,” Vesta said, his eyes shining.

Ignis cut in smoothly. “Indeed he is. Your highness, do be careful when changing out of that, we won’t have time for any further alterations, I’m afraid.”

They made their way back the Citadel once Noctis was changed. Noctis was good at being incognito when he wanted or needed to be, but this was not one of those times. His entourage was too distinctive for him to be entirely circumspect, and while Vesta’s shop was in the royal shopping district near the Citadel – meaning people should be used to seeing royalty out and about – with the wedding and the truce so close at hand, people were making it a point to come up to him and thank him.

Young women were crying as if he were going off to die in war. Men were promising to take up arms if necessary. Prompto had told him that Cor said there was a twenty-eight percent increase in applications for the Crownsguard. Nothing like a prince’s tragic wedding to a daemon lord to inspire national pride.

Insomnia was planning for the party to end all parties on Noctis’s wedding day – and why wouldn’t they? It would mark an end to the war, to the cessation of a slow creeping terror in which the world turned dark all around them, leaving people to wonder how long it would be until their own light was gradually, inexorably snuffed out.

“Hey, Prince Noctis!”

Gladio moved like a shot, stepping in front of Noctis with his body the second he heard the shouted address from across the street. Noctis could feel Gladio reaching out to the armiger in case he needed a weapon. Prompto had his hand on his gun, sharpshooter’s gaze seeking exposed vulnerable areas that would drop any potential threat with a single bullet.

The man was standing in front of a bar called The Royal Armiger, which was a pub frequented by high-ranking courtiers, nobles and dignitaries. Noctis preferred the dive bars around Prompto’s old place, where Prompto had lived with his last foster family and then on his own the year he’d been in Crownsguard training and working at the camera store. Even though Prompto lived at the Citadel now, they still tried to find time to sneak off and get a few Bad Breath Ales at Malboro’s.

Somehow, Noctis didn’t think he would be taking Izunia there. Maybe to visit an _actual_ Marlboro.

“Yeah?” Noctis called, peeking around Gladio’s massive shoulder. He might not go to this bar on his own, but he’d been for a drink with his dad when he’d turned eighteen.

“Just wanted you to know that you get free drinks in this bar for life!” the guy shouted. He held his hands up. “Sorry to shout at you, but I had to say something.”

“Thanks,” Noctis called back, ducking his head. He was glad the people were excited. Someone should be, and after all, that’s why he was doing this, wasn’t it? For them?

“The air of celebration has made the city quite festive,” Ignis murmured, as they continued on their way. “I believe my favorite coffee shop, Brewtus, named a drink after you, Noct.”

“Really?” Prompto’s eyes brightened. “What’s in it?”

“It’s Noct, so it’s probably decaf and chamomille or something,” Gladio said with a laugh. “Actually, I bet it’s not even coffee at all. S’probably tea. Sleepytime Tea for the Sleepytime Prince.”

The teasing was nice, if maybe a bit forced. Noctis bumped his Shield’s shoulder with his own and gave a low laugh. “They should name one after all of you. Ignis’s is four shots of espresso, Prompto’s got way too much sugar, and yours is a full-body flavor that could strip paint off a car.”

“Aw, you flatterer.” Gladio slung an arm around him and ruffled his hair. He kept it light and easy, knowing how Noctis didn’t always like to be touched.

“Gladio, do stop mussing him in public,” Ignis murmured. “But I quite agree with your assessment of his potential eponymous coffee beverage, your highness.” He smiled. “But he likes it sweeter than you might think.”

“Aw,” Prompto said. “That’s cute. Mine better have whipped cream on it, though. Dude. Like a lot of it. And _caramel_.”  

Before Noctis could say anything, he felt a strange prickle at the back of his neck. He stopped, glancing around, looking for the source of whatever it was.

His companions went from his closest friends and his boyfriend to the deadly, high-trained men they were and, without thought or question, formed a circle around him for protection.

“Where?” Gladio asked, all business. “Prompto, look for snipers.”  

“I am. There’s not supposed to be access to rooftops in this sector.” Unlike his caution to do so before, with the man who’d shouted a greeting, Prompto had his gun out and sighted, scanning for potential threats.

Ignis’s daggers flashed in the bright sun. “Can you pinpoint the threat, your highness?”

All of this, and Noctis didn’t even have to _say_ anything. If it weren’t for the unease shivering over him like an ice spell, Noctis would maybe mention the amazing teamwork and slight overkill, geez. “I don’t see anything. It’s a feeling.” Noctis inhaled, glancing around. The street wasn’t busy, necessarily, but it was Insomnia. The city was called that for a reason, and it was always thrumming with energy.

Just usually not like this.

He shook his head, a bit sheepish at causing them to catapult into code red territory. “Sorry. I don’t know what it was. Just…be careful.”

They were. Joking and teasing fell by the wayside as they made their way back to the safety of the Citadel. The feeling only got worse, though. Noctis rubbed at his arms, wondering what it could be. A glance up at the sky showed it was a bright, sunny day outside. Nothing out of the ordinary.

And yet, for some reason, Noctis felt like he did when he’d gone into a few of the crypts to receive his ancestor’s royal arms. Leaving the light behind, climbing slowly down slick, mossy stones in the dark.

“Feels like I just walked into a cold spot,” Prompto said. “They turn the air conditioning up or something?”  Climate control was a necessity in a city mostly protected from changing weather patterns, but it was mid-spring and not nearly warm enough out for that.

Cor met them at the door. His face was closed off, serious. “Your highness. Your father needs you to accompany me to the throne room immediately.” He paused. “Izunia’s here.”

Well. That would explain the dread, then.

Noctis entertained a brief fantasy in which he could do the exact opposite of that and _run_. Take his friends and his father’s Regalia, drive away and leave all of this – the wedding, his responsibilities and the magic that would kill him just like it was slowly killing his father – behind. It was momentary and fleeting, and he knew he’d never do it.

Noctis was the crown prince of Lucis. He would be the king. He pulled down royal bearing as if it were a weapon from his armiger, and nodded, heading after Cor.

Just like they’d done in all those crypts and tombs Noctis had dragged them to, his Shield, his advisor and his Crownsguard followed at his heels.

***

Noctis had no idea what to expect when it came to Ardyn Izunia. He’d built up Izunia’s appearance in his head as a cross between an RPG villain and some corrupt politician like Marcus Troilus. In reality, Ardyn Izunia looked like he should be enticing you to step right up and try your hand at a carnival game that was absolutely rigged so you couldn’t win.

Noctis’s future consort was tall, five inches or so taller than Noctis himself. He was broad-shouldered, though that could be the sheer amount of clothing he was wearing, comprised of so many varying patterns that it was hard to know where to look first.

His face was obscured by a wide-brimmed black hat, and his hair was a deep burgundy that looked almost purple. The second he saw Noctis, he removed the hat and swept a bow. “My dearest intended, we meet at last.” He rose, put the hat to his chest and smiled at Noctis.

Izunia’s eyes were a strange unnatural golden amber, and they seemed to brighten the longer they stared at each other. Noctis knew within a half-second of meeting Izunia’s eyes that Izunia hated him. He could feel it, slick like an oil spill, and Izunia’s smiles and his over-the-top mannerisms were nothing but a disguise for the malice that slumbered beneath.

Noctis bowed, because Izunia outranked him. “Emperor Izunia. Welcome to Insomnia.”

“Oh, now, let’s not stand on ceremony, shall we? I’ve no real desire to be an emperor, I find the title a bit…well, it’s a bit _much_ , don’t you think?”

_You have purple hair and are mixing jacquard and coeurl prints. I don’t think you’re in a position to judge._

“You would prefer I call you _your grace_?” Noctis asked, calmly enough. It was the correct form of address for a prince’s consort, even though technically he wasn’t that, yet.

“I would prefer you use my name, which is Ardyn.” Izunia’s words were as layered as his clothing. It was all a distraction, and Noctis – for whatever reason – could see past it to the rotten core of what the man really was. He _hated_ Noctis, he hated him and there was anger there, the dark, deep kind where nothing lived but bones and sand.

_This has nothing to do with daemons or covenants or prophecies. This is something else. Something we don’t know anything about._

“Emperor Izunia arrived unexpectedly this afternoon at the gate.”

That was his father’s voice. Noctis glanced up at the throne. Regis’s expression was as inscrutable as a portrait – he was too long on the throne to let his emotions show, even now. Noctis flushed as he realized he’d completely overlooked the common courtesy expected to be shown to the king, even by his son.

That he’d bowed to the Scourge and not his own father was disturbing on a lot of different levels.

“Your majesty.” Noctis bowed to his father, every muscle tense as if he were about to throw his weapon and warp strike. Astrals knew he _wanted_ to. He could feel Izunia’s eyes on him, like Noctis was carrion and Izunia was some kind of hungry vulture.

“Prince Noctis. Since we are still technically at war with Emperor Izunia’s forces and he has chosen to enter the city _earlier than expected_ and of his own free will, he shall be considered a political prisoner until the agreed upon time for the wedding.” Regis’s mouth tightened. “He was accompanied by the Imperial High Commander, who likewise shall be kept under guard in a secure location.”

So. Ravus was here. Luna and her guard were due into the city tomorrow; Noctis wondered how that would be, one sibling an honored guest, the other a prisoner.

“Yes, yes, he’s being fussy about that, I might add. Not too fond of you, but as I’ve told him over and over, I’m not terribly interested in his petty grudges.” Izunia looked completely unconcerned.  His voice rubbed against Noctis’s nerves like exposed barbed wire dragging over an open wound.  

“Clarus will see to it that Commander Nox Fleuret is treated fairly,” Regis said. He sounded cold, commanding – nothing like the father Noctis knew him to be. This was the King, and Noctis could tell he was well-aware of what a threat Izunia really was underneath the posturing. “And the Kingdom of Lucis will do the same for you.”

“I require very little, really,” Izunia said, cheerfully, like he was a guest checking in at a hotel and Regis was the desk clerk. “Merely a bath, a bed, and perhaps the blood of a few firstborn Lucian sons to offer my daemons in exchange for riches untold.”

Silence, and then, “My apologies. I’ve been told I have a _dreadful_ sense of humor. The bed and the bath shall suffice.” Izunia turned toward Noctis, in a swirl of mismatched patterns and malice. “My dear prince, perhaps you would do me the honor of escorting me to my heavily guarded, though I do hope comfortable, quarters?”

“Yeah, no,” Gladio said, immediately. “Not happening.”

“You are going to have to leave me alone with him at some point,” Izunia murmured. His smile was different when it was just aimed at Noctis. It had as much genuine warmth as cold steel and was just as sharp.

Next to Noctis, Prompto made a sound of suppressed anger. Noctis felt a flare of fear burn through him– the last thing he wanted was for Prompto to catch Izunia’s attention. But if Izunia noticed, he gave no indication.

“Clarus, see the emperor to his quarters. Emperor Izunia, accommodations for you to meet with my son shall be made when it is appropriate. You are here early, of your own admission, and we are still at war. I will not allow the prince near you until that has changed.”  

“I _completely_ understand, your majesty.” Izunia pulled something from his pocket, and blithely ignored how Noctis and his father’s armigers both flared into sudden light, and that everyone else in the room had their preferred weapon trained on his head or his heart. The thing he’d pulled out was a pocket watch. “Forgive me for altering the schedule, but since it was not stipulated _when_ my armies should retreat, I went ahead and gave the order. It works out better for my regents, who are dealing with matters of state in my absence. It’s not an easy thing to repatriate soldiers, you realize.”

Izunia glanced between Regis’s and Noctis’s armigers, clearly comparing the two. “You seem to be missing a few arms, Prince Noctis.”

He was. Shortly before Izunia had overthrown the Niflheim empire, Noctis had set out to collect the royal arms he’d need to fulfil the prophecy. But the spread of the Scourge – not to mention the war – kept him from the last three, and that Izunia _knew_ that made Noctis furious. He didn’t say anything.

Izunia had that part covered. “Perhaps when things have settled you’ll permit me to accompany you to find the rest. I know a thing or two about old kings and the weapons they can’t take with them when they die.”

Before Noctis could reply, the doors to the throne room were flung open. “Your majesty,” the Glaive, Axis, said breathlessly. “There are reports coming in from all over Lucis that the – your majesty, they’re saying it’s _gone_.”

“Gone?” Clarus demanded. “What’s gone?”

“The dark,” Axis said, his eyes wide. “My sister called from Lestallum. She showed me and – it’s true.”

Regis stood up on his throne. He looked down at Izunia, who smiled beatifically up at him. “I can send them back, if you’d rather I wait for a more _appropriate_ time, King Regis.”

Noctis could hear a noise coming from outside, beyond the doorway and the Citadel itself. It took him a moment to realize what it was.

It was the sound of Insomnia reacting to the news that the war was over, the Scourge was gone, and the light had returned to Lucis.

It was the sound of Insomnia _cheering._

Ardyn Izunia, who had walked into Insomnia as a prisoner of war, was now being serenaded by a symphony of adoration from the same people he’d been systematically seeking to exterminate.

It made Noctis think about that old Solheim myth, with the ancient walled city that celebrated the end of a long war by welcoming a gift of a wooden horse from their departed enemies – only to find, after the wine had been drunk and the songs had been sung, the enemy had been hiding in the flanks all along. The town had been razed to the ground by dawn.

Izunia’s smile was wide, amused and full of malice. He held his arms up and said, “A gift from me to the people of Insomnia and Lucis both. For _welcoming_ me as one of them. Surely my gesture of goodwill is enough to earn me the escort of my future consort the short distance to my rooms, your majesty?”

King Regis was clearly distracted, given the reports that were being delivered by harried-looking staffers, unaware of the strange man standing so calmly in the center of the maelstrom.

“I’ll show you to your quarters, your grace,” Noctis said, forcing the title like he was spitting out dust. He bowed to his father again. “His majesty will assign whatever guard he thinks appropriate.”

“I’ll see to it,” Cor said, with a brusque nod.

“Oh, silly me, I should have realized what a tizzy my gift would cause.” Izunia put a hand on his chest, his eyes wide in mock surprise. “A good thing you have a few days before the wedding festivities to attend to matters of your kingdom, hmm?”

“Quite,” Regis said, in a chilly voice. His father knew full well he’d been manipulated, and so did everyone else. “I shall take this as the expression of goodwill you intended it to be, Emperor Izunia. But my son is not required to dance attendance upon you. That is up to him. You will have enough of his time when it matters.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Izunia said, with another bow. “I shall leave it up to Prince Noctis, then.”  

Noctis wanted to act like a child, stick his tongue out and run away. Instead, he gave his future consort a chilly smile and the world’s smallest bow. He’d been well taught in the microaggressions of court. “It’s the least I can do to show our appreciation for his grace’s generosity.”

Regis could do naught but spare his son a nod, before giving a stiff farewell and moving off with his advisors.

Outside, the cheering grew louder.

“You’re not going anywhere without us, your highness.” Gladio shot Izunia a dark look. “So forget about it.”

“It’s so distressing to see how much everyone thinks I mean to kill you the second we’re out of their sight,” Izunia murmured, but he seemed amused far more than distressed.  

“It’s fine, Gladio,” Noctis reassured him. “You might want to check on Ravus, though.”

“You certainly can’t mean to follow us around all the time when we’re _married_ ,” Izunia said, in that annoying, sing-song voice of his.

“Watch me.” Gladio’s voice was flat.

“Your majesty,” Prompto interrupted carefully. “I’m on duty. Unless Marshal Leonis relieves me, then I have to do as I’m ordered.”

Izunia finally spared Prompto a glance – and then laughed. “Yes, you do have to follow orders, don’t you? What a good little _trooper_ you are. So loyal.”

Prompto had no hint of his usual sunny disposition on his features as he faced Izunia. “That’s right, your grace. I am.”

“If you would permit me to introduce myself,” Ignis put in, at length, stepping smoothly in between Prompto and Izunia and whatever weird thing was going on there, “I’m Ignis Scientia, Prince Noctis’s chamberlain and advisor. I shall likely service as a liaison between yourself and the King, given the recent, ah, circumstances.” Ignis managed to say all of this like Izunia wasn’t evil and hadn’t just literally ended a war with nothing save a glance at his watch. “I should like to meet with you to discuss protocol for the ceremony at some point.”

Izunia looked at him for so long in silence that it became uncomfortable. Finally, he gave an easy shrug and said, “Of course. I’m certain you’ll know where to find me.” He dismissed Ignis and gave Noctis one of those blank, meaningless smiles. “Shall we?” He offered his arm.

Noctis didn’t take it. He simply started walking, expecting Izunia to follow. He was done playing this man’s games for the day. Izunia fell into step beside him in a few easy strides, given his longer legs, and Noctis knew that Prompto was following behind at a distance that would allow him a quick headshot if necessary.

They were halfway to Izunia’s chambers before Noctis glanced over at him. “We’ve never met before, have we, your grace?”

“No, Prince Noctis. We have not.” Izunia turned his head to glance at him. “Why do you ask?”

Noctis almost walked into a wall, he was so startled at how… _different_ …Izunia looked when he dropped the act. His eyes were cold, and underneath the flashy clothes and exaggerated mannerisms it was clear just how dangerous he really was. 

“Because you hate me and I’m not sure why.” He stopped in front of the door to the chambers that were intended for Noctis’s future wife –now designated for his consort. Noctis had no intention of sharing them beyond their own required night. Ever.

Izunia’s smile, when he wasn’t being melodramatic, was more a smirk than anything hinting at actual amusement. “Ah, my dear Noctis. That’s the curse of the blood royal, isn’t it? To be doomed by those who bled and died long before you took your first squalling breath?”

Noctis scowled. “I was hoping you’d drop the flowery speech when you dropped the act, but I guess not. You mean someone in my family hurt you, and you’re getting revenge?”

“Yes, your highness. That is exactly what I mean.” 

Not having expected such an answer to come so easily, Noctis just blinked at him. “Well? What was it?” It’s not like he didn’t know some of his ancestors were assholes. There were even rumors of a king so awful they’d been subjected to the _damnatio memoriae_ , the very worst fate that could befall a Lucian monarch. It meant you were stricken from history and from memory itself, like you never existed at all.

Izunia reached out and tapped two fingers against Noctis’s cheek. He was wearing fingerless gloves, and even that briefest bit of skin contact made Noctis’s stomach churn. “Now, now. Let’s not show our cards so soon in the game, hmm? Besides. A little mystery is good for a marriage. Believe me, I’ll tell you everything in due time.”

“But you hate me,” Noctis said, to make sure he had this clear.

Izunia’s smirk never faltered. “Oh, yes,” he breathed. “Make no mistake about that, my dear, _dear_ Prince Noctis. I hate you with all the black ichor in my heart and the rot in my veins.” The way he said it, though, it almost sounded _fond_. “And every last poisoned drop _is all for you._ ”  

“I don’t understand.” Noctis was unable to look away from Izunia’s eyes, which were changing, slowly, along with the rest of his face. The sclera of Izunia’s eyes turned to coal, the skin of his face went dead-white and the veins beneath pulsed black instead of blue. There was a shadow behind him, something great and vast, but Noctis didn’t look away from his eyes to see what it might be.

“Not yet. But you will.” Izunia’s voice sent unpleasant shivers up Noctis’s spine. “You will.” He tipped his hat, and the face was gone – he was just Izunia, again, with the smirk and the scruff, the improbable purple hair and the eyes that burned like hellfire. “And please do me the favor of calling me Ardyn, would you?” His expression eased into something smug and satisfied, and for the first time, he really did look amused. “You’d be surprised how _eager_ I am to shed the name _Izunia_.”

_No, I wouldn't. Snakes always shed their skins, don't they?_

Noctis left without calling him anything at all.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time: ravus finds himself a prisoner in Insomnia with a new job he never wanted, and guarded by the youngest amicitia, who is like a breath of fresh air and sunshine that ravus _does not want, thank you, he'd rather suffer in the dark, breathe in the smell of death and decay the light hurts his demon eyes ANYWAY so just go away with your joy tyvm_. 
> 
> iris: cool let's play triple triad also cool demon arm, bro, you wanna spar?


	7. there's a lover in the story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Ravus used to think he understood Ardyn’s goals when it came to this whole affair with the wedding and House Caelum, but he was beginning to think the only one who really knew what was going on was Ardyn himself._
> 
> (In Which Ravus gets a surprising gift from the Emperor, Noctis gets an idea, Ignis and Gladio get propositioned and Prompto gets flustered over curry.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my apologies for the delay! i was at a music festival, and then i ended up with a respiratory infection /o\ BOO. 
> 
> But here we are, yay!

Ravus fully intended to be executed when he accompanied Ardyn to Insomnia.

Why wouldn’t he be? He was the high commander of the enemy’s forces. He was not here to make a peaceful or advantageous marriage. Ardyn had said something at the Gate about Ravus taking on new duties as an ambassador, but Ravus had long ago learned to tune Ardyn out when he talked his way into some scheme or another. Even when said schemes involved Ravus.

They’d been brought to the Citadel, Ardyn given audience with King Regis and Ravus shown to a set of spartan quarters with guards stationed outside. When Marshal Leonis had returned for him, Ravus put his chin up and told himself to be glad they were going to kill him before his sister was back in the city. He did not wish her to see him die, not after everything he’d put her through.

Instead of killing him, they’d brought him to much nicer quarters in what had to be the royal residence; no one offered an explanation and Ravus did not bother to ask for one. When they brought him wine and bread and fruit, he figured they were probably poisoned – how expedient, to kill him off quietly and dispose of him before the furor of the royal wedding. An underhanded, cowardly way to kill, poison. But had Ravus expected anything less from House Caelum?

There was always the chance it _wasn’t_ poisoned, but he did not understand why they would send it if it wasn’t. It could have been from _Ardyn_ – since what use was Ravus to him, now? Certainly Ardyn had no problem with doing whatever he needed to accomplish his goals. But why bring Ravus with him to Insomnia, if only to turn around and poison him? It would make more sense, tactically, for Ardyn to offer him up as a political prisoner as a show of good faith.

Unless his plan was to cause a panic and incite some dramatic farce of murder and mayhem by killing Ravus and making it look as if the treaty had been violated? Ravus highly doubted there was anything in the official documents, the ones bound with blood magic, that said _and thou shall not kill the high commander of the army._ He wasn’t that important.

No, if the wine was poisoned it would be Lucis’s doing. Ravus did not want to die here, but he was _tired._

He had done what he had meant to do; he had kept Lunafreya safe from making the covenants that would kill her. He had kept her from marriage to a king who was not worthy of her, had ensured she would be given the freedom to heal as was her true calling. Thanks to Noctis’s marriage to Ardyn, the Lucis Caelum line would end. There was nothing more Ravus could hope to accomplish.

By rights he should return to Tenebrae and be the sword to the Oracle, the protector of the Queen. But he and Luna’s relationship was fraught and broken; he had long ago severed any gentle bonds that remained when he’d chosen to take Ardyn’s offer and let himself be infected by the Scourge.

That he had done it for her was of no consequence. She was safe, and the two Glaives who had accompanied her to Tenebrae had more than proven their loyalty. Protected and adored, his sister would be a Queen and a healer and an Oracle, and Ravus could do nothing more for her now but let her be.

With the rather maudlin thought of _no one needs you_ driving him, Ravus – exhausted in every way a person could be – snatched up the wine and the food and methodically finished both. Then he’d gone into the opulent bathing room and stood beneath the shower, letting the steam and the hot water lull him into a drowsy state of acceptance.

 _Mama, does it hurt to die?_ He’d asked his mother, once.

_Of course not, darling. It feels like going to sleep after you’ve been very busy all day, like the most wonderful nap in the world where you have the sweetest of dreams._

She’d died screaming on the end of a sword, and Ravus no longer believed that dreams were sweet.

He barely had the energy to dress, as dizzy and disoriented and tired as he was, so he merely pulled on a white undershirt and loose black pajama pants that had been laid out on the bed and crawled atop it. _I do not deserve a gentle death, but if that what has come for me, I shall not fight it._

_I’m sorry, Luna. Forgive me._

He woke to the sound of someone knocking on the door. He hadn’t been dying, he’d just been _drunk._ A pounding headache accompanied this humiliating revelation. How lovely.

 _I’d fall on my sword if I thought I wouldn’t miss and break my nose on the floor._ Honestly.

The knocking had become incessant to the point of annoyance. Frowning, Ravus pushed to his feet and walked toward the door, ignoring the headache and the fact his hair was a tangled mess and hanging in his face. “Yes?”

“Commander Nox Fleuret?” A chipper voice asked. Young, feminine, and far too cheerful for his liking. “Can I open the door?”

“I was under the impression that I was a prisoner.” Ravus winced and massaged his temples. Lucian wine was much stronger than that of Tenebrae, and Ravus never trusted anything Ardyn Izunia had lying around in a bottle. No wonder he’d thought he was dying. Perhaps he could take up drinking. If he never stopped, he need not suffer the headache.

“Nah, you’re just under guard. But I have this _giant_ tray of food and it’s, like, really heavy, so if you could just open the door that’d be great!”

Ravus reached for the knob, which turned smoothly in his hand. Wonderful. He’d thought himself poisoned under locked guard when really he’d just gotten drunk and passed out in an _unlocked room_. The highlight of his career as an elite commander, to be sure.

The girl was indeed holding a tray positively _laden_ with food. He might be her enemy, but Ravus was too much a gentleman not to immediately relieve her of her burden and carry it over to the large table and deposit it next to the detritus of his not-poisoned snack.

“Thanks! That was heavy! Probably because my brother-in-law insisted on adding those pastries. He says they’re from Tenebrae. And, uh. That you’re from there, too.” The girl, dark-haired and dressed in the austere black of a Crownsguard member, beamed at him. Ravus immediately mistrusted the smile, which held none of the malice it should given who he was.

In addition to the Tenebraen pastries there was fresh juice, a pot of good, hot black tea, and eggs prepared in a way he hadn’t seen since he was a child; over a hash made of sweet potatoes, vegetables and _fresh mushrooms_. Ravus hadn’t eaten this well since before he’d left home for the army when he was sixteen.

His stomach grumbled. Ravus put his arms over his chest and scowled at the girl in protest. It was easier to blame her than the eggs. “Perhaps you would be so kind as to elucidate proper procedure for political prisoners. Catered breakfasts and luxury accommodations seem to be rather missing the point.”

“Well, that’s because you’re not a prisoner. You’re under guard, yeah, but that’s just until the wedding. Seriously, can you try the pastries? My brother-in-law has been trying to get this recipe right since Prince Noctis was a kid.”

Ravus took a bite of the pastry. The taste was familiar enough to make him ache for better days, but not quite right despite the nostalgia. “Close, but tell your brother-in-law it needs sea salt and a bit of spice to balance the sweetness. Our cook used dead pepper flakes.”

“Yeah? I’ll let Iggy know. He’s been stress baking for like, three days straight I think. Also, hi, I’m Iris. I’m the Crownsguard assigned to you.”

He stared at her. She couldn’t be more than eighteen if she were a day, and she barely came up to his shoulder. “They don’t think me much of a flight risk, then, I’m assuming?” It came out snide, and he almost apologized for his atrocious manners. Almost. She was still a Lucian, bound in service to a king he despised.  

Her voice, pleasant and light, became all steel and conviction. “I’m from House Amicitia. If you know the name, you know…” she paused. “Our fame? Our game? That sounded better in my head. Don’t be a dick, I’m a good at my job.”  

He colored a bit at her forthright language, but in lieu of an apology he waved at the food and said, “Help yourself, if you wish. It’s far too much for me.” He’d learned to eat sparingly in Niflheim. Food was not as readily available as it was here.

Now that she’d given her House name, her resemblance to the Prince’s Shield was clear in her coloring, though she was several inches shorter and slighter of frame than either her brother or her father. She wore a moogle charm on a chain around her neck, and her fingernails were painted a sparkling blue. And she smiled at him, seemingly unconcerned with his reputation or his disheveled appearance.

Which, of course, he’d forgotten about. Ravus frowned, not liking to be anything less than perfectly composed and presentable – especially around the enemy. And despite the charm necklaces and the glitter polish, this girl with her bright smile and easy laugh was the enemy. He would do well not to forget that.

She took up a pastry and nibbled on it, watching him. “Your sister, Lady Lunafreya. She should be here either later today or tomorrow. If you want, I can bring her here to visit you.”

“If my sister wishes to visit me, she may. Do not bring her here on my account.” The food was too heavy, and he pushed his half-eaten plate aside in favor of the tea. It was sharp and bitter, perfect for his mood.

“Sure. Well, is there anything else you need? I can bring some cards. I’m pretty good at Triple Triad.”

He was vaguely familiar with the game as one the soldiers in Niflheim played – back when there were human ones -- but Ravus did not indulge in such frivolity. “No, thank you.”

“Okay, well – let me know if you need anything.” She cleared her throat. “Do you, uh. Want your uniform washed? The one you showed up in. It’s uh. Over there on the floor?”

Ravus was fair-skinned and it showed easily when he flushed. “I was not expecting visitors, Lady Amicitia. Forgive me for not dressing appropriately.” That almost sounded genuine. He wondered when it was, the last time he’d spoken without that edge in his voice.

_You know exactly when it was. A sunny day, Tenebrae, and an Imperial drop ship. Flames, and fire, and the man who only cared enough to save your sister for the sake of his spoiled son._

“You look like the kinda guy who sleeps in his boots,” she said cheerfully. Surely she was too young to know anything about men and their sleeping habits, wasn’t she? “My brother-in-law is like that. The first time I saw him in pajamas…well, they were like, ironed. And monogrammed.” She giggled, and by the Six, how long had it been since he’d heard an actual laugh?

Ardyn laughed, sometimes. Out of actual amusement, even. But it never sounded quite the same.

“Ah, well met, Lord Ravus.”

Think of the devil. Wonderful. Now he was eating a pastry and wearing his pajamas, in front of a Lucian noble who happened to be a teenage girl, and _the Emperor._ Perhaps he’d died after all, and this was his eternal punishment. “Ardyn.”

Ardyn’s eyebrows rose. “My. Aren’t we quite familiar in our address this morning.”

And since when had Ardyn ever cared about that? “My apologies.” Ravus got to his feet and bowed, barefoot and messy-haired as he was. “Your Imperial Majesty. How might I be of service?“

Ardyn fell into a chair and reached out for a pastry. He took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. “Ah, I remember these. Back in my day, they were made with unleavened flour. Needs a bit of sea salt and some spice.” He took another bite, then caught Ravus watching him. “What?”

“I’ve never seen you eat anything. It’s unsettling.”

 “And I’ve never seen _you_ so disheveled.” Ardyn’s smile turned into a leer. “In polite company, that is.” He turned to Iris. “Am I permitted a few moments alone with the Imperial High Commander, my dear Miss…?”

“Iris,” Iris said, but did not give her House name. Ravus did not offer it, either. She was a Crownsguard and a noble of a house he despised in a country he hated, but even that didn’t warrant bringing her to Ardyn’s attention. Perhaps he had a soft spot for little sisters.

Of course, Ardyn already knew who she was.

“Yes, yes, of course, do forgive me. Iris Amicitia. You are the youngest in a very proud line of Shields. Ravus, how honored you are to receive such a distinguished member of the Crownsguard as your very own.”

Ravus set his jaw. “Quite.”

Ardyn snatched up another pastry, but this one he presented to Iris. “I apologize, he’s rather poor tempered in the morning. And the afternoon. Come to think of it, he’s usually in a poor temper regardless. You have my sympathies, Lady Amicitia. If he gives you any rouble, do let me know. I’ll make him behave.”

Ravus closed his eyes. “Ardyn, stop before I stab you with a fork.”

“It still counts as treason, darling, until I’m married. I wonder, though. Can an ambassador incite treason by stabbing the Prince’s Consort? I have no idea. Lady Amicitia, do you know?”

“Well. You probably shouldn’t stab people, just in general. With anything.” She took a bit of the pastry and shrugged. If Ardyn intimidated her, which he did most people, she wasn’t letting it show. Clearly a wise man would not underestimate her. “But as for whether it counts, I’ll ask Iggy when I tell him about the sea salt and – dead pepper flakes? Right. I’ll get back to you.” With a bow, she turned and headed toward the door.

Ardyn finished his pastry, his charm evaporating like smoke once they were alone. “I have a gift for you. Would you like to come sit in my lap so that I may give it to you?”

Ravus didn’t move. He could think of nothing he would like less. “I’m not particularly in the mood.”

“You’re never in the mood, my dear. That’s why you like it with me.” Ardyn produced a newspaper from the folds of his coat and tossed it on the table.

_Scourge Gone From Lucis, Is the War Really Over?_

Ravus glanced at the paper, reading the article just enough to get the gist. This would be why they were merely under guard and not locked away in some cell, then. “You weren’t supposed to recall the armies until after your wedding.”

Ardyn shrugged. “The timing made no difference to me.”

 _Nothing makes any difference to you._ Ravus used to think he understood Ardyn’s goals when it came to this whole affair with the wedding and House Caelum, but he was beginning to think the only one who really knew what was going on was Ardyn himself.

“You realize the entirety of the human population shall likely migrate to Lucian lands, now that the Scourge is gone.” Ravus couldn’t remember the last time he saw actual humans in the lands that used to be Niflheim. Between the eternal night, the snow and the demons, they had little reasons to venture forth out of whatever sanctuary they’d found for themselves.

Ardyn smiled and leaned in, gesturing Ravus closer. “I have a secret to tell you.”

Foolish as it doubtless was, curiosity got the better of him. Ravus moved in closer, bending down. “Well?”

Ardyn put his hand up next to his mouth and stage-whispered, “ _I_ am the Scourge, Ravus. That means it goes where I go. And I am here, in the heart of the Lucian capital, a day away from _defiling_ their precious Noctis and do you know what delights me the most about this entire thing?”

Ravus made an undignified noise as Ardyn suddenly tugged him down, pulling him bodily into his lap. He made a face and grabbed Ardyn’s shoulders to keep from toppling onto the floor, though that might have been preferable. “What?”

The whites of Ardyn’s eyes had turned black. “I didn’t even have to _ask_ for the privilege. They just gave him to me, sacrificed him as surely as they would have let him die. These kings of Lucis, always so willing to give up their sons to save themselves.”

Ravus had fucked Ardyn Izunia often enough that he’d seen this before, the half-daemonic change where sometimes he was the Scourge, sometimes he was a man, and sometimes he was another thing all together.

Ardyn took Ravus’s arm – the one that wasn’t human – and brought it up to his mouth. Ravus hissed as Ardyn ran too-sharp teeth over the mottled skin, biting into whatever it was that comprised his altered limb. It hurt.

Ravus shook on Ardyn’s lap, trying to breathe, the pain a sick twist in his stomach. Ardyn very rarely hurt him, because Ardyn liked to give people what they refused to admit they wanted. In Ravus’s case, that happened to be pleasure.

This, though – there was nothing Ravus enjoyed about this. It felt like things were tearing, and he could _hear_ them, wet sounds of things being ripped apart. His vision blurred and there was a distant roar in his ears. He had to bite his own lip to keep from making a sound. He was as stingy with his noises of pain as he was pleasure.

Ardyn reached up and drew his hand gently down Ravus’s messy hair – once, twice, as if Ardyn were _petting_ him. That was almost more disconcerting than the pain.

_He’s eating my arm._

Ravus watched, letting the pain center him now that he understood what was happening. Ardyn was drawing the darkness, the Scourge, back into himself and _out_ of Ravus.

Ravus fought it, but he didn’t know why. It made him weak, dizzy, and oddly aroused – he could feel Ardyn sucking, now, and his eyes were gold and bright like fire, burning, burning, and _endless¸_ there were multitudes caught within and the longer he stared the more he felt like he was going to fall forever.

Something rustled and rose up behind Ardyn, blocking the light from the window behind him. Hazily, Ravus could see horns stretching from Ardyn’s head, curved and gleaming onyx. His face was white and his veins black, the Scourge pulsing like a living thing beneath his skin.

It was over in seconds, it was over in an eternity. Ardyn shoved him back and pressed the back of a hand that trembled visibly to his mouth. Ravus could see the black pulsing through Ardyn’s veins as the Scourge was reabsorbed into its host.  

Ravus looked down at his arm. It was normal; the flesh was dry but no longer black, and it didn’t work any better than before – he’d still need the prosthetic. But it was human, and so was he. He could feel it like a breath of fresh air after hours spent in a stuffy room, like cold water on a parched throat.  

“You have served me well, Ravus.” Ardyn’s voice wasn’t sweet, but it wasn’t his usual mocking cadence, either. His eyes no longer looked like doorways. “Consider that a gift for your loyalty.”

“Why?” Ravus asked, his voice harsh.

“I had a brother, once,” Ardyn stared up at him with an odd little smile on his face, his eyes unfocused and distant. “He was nowhere near as loyal. One wonders what might have happened if he had been.”

“Ardyn,” Ravus said, deeply unnerved by all of this. Ardyn’s eyes snapped back into focus, which also did not help.  “Of all the things I’ve ever seen you be, _kind_ is by far the most unsettling.”

“Is that so?” Ardyn leaned in and pressed a kiss to his mouth. “Don’t worry, Lord Ravus. I daresay if things continue to go so smoothly as they have been, it’s the last time you’ll ever see it.”

***

Noctis stared at the pill in his hand. It was small, blue, and placed there by his very serious advisor. “This does what, again?”

Ignis was far too disciplined to sigh, but Noctis knew him well enough to know when he wanted to. “The pill is an advanced form of elemancy, your highness. It’s designed to, ah. Encourage and stimulate sexual desire.”

Noctis carefully folded his hand around the pill. “You want me to take this on my wedding night.”

Ignis nodded. “It should ensure that you at least can perform your duties when the time comes.”

“Yeah.” Noctis thought about it. He doubted the pill could make him enjoy anything he had to do with Izunia, but at least he wouldn’t have to worry about failure to consummate the marriage physically. “Could this be used against me, somehow? If they find out, would it invalidate the treaty?”

“One would assume royal marriages have employed a great amount of liquor to accomplish much the same thing on the wedding night.” Ignis gave him an odd look. “I assumed you would be grateful. I know that you were concerned about your physical ability to carry out the terms of the treaty.”

Discussing his dick like this was so weird. Noctis gave a brief shrug, staring off into space – his usual disinterested pose, the one that he fell into so easily when he was uncomfortable. Ignis knew him too well to be fooled by his attempted nonchalance.

“Is that assumption incorrect?” Ignis asked, gently enough.

“No, I’m just…if I have to do this, I don’t want to be drugged to do it.” Noctis couldn’t explain why, but he remembered being a child, sick and at the mercy of drugs that weren’t working because his injury was supernatural in origin. Noctis, who didn’t even like drinking, hated the thought of being with Ardyn _and_ on some substance that took his body out of his control.

No. If he was going to do this – and he _was_ – he was just going to have to do it without the help of magic.

Ignis gently patted his shoulder. “I do understand. You know I hate being intoxicated or otherwise out of my senses as well. In fact, I can’t say if I would be able to take this, either. But His Majesty bid me deliver and of course, I must obey.”

“My dad gave you a sex pill to give to me?” Noctis laughed harshly. “Wow. I don’t know what to say to that.” Noctis slipped the pill into his pocket, hoping that if he did need to take it in order to fulfil his part of the treaty, he could make himself forget where it had come from. His _dad._ By the Six, how awkward was that?

It was the prevailing theory around the Citadel that Noctis didn’t like sex. Noctis had never been easy to get to know, and that was as much a part of his station and his duty as it was his personality; his injury had made him cautious, as if he’d learned too young that being open and vulnerable only ended in blood and pain and misery. Sex was something he’d discovered early on, with himself – he liked the physical sensations very much, but he didn’t want anyone to see or know he was doing it.

The first time he’d thought about anyone else in a sexual way, he’d been fifteen. It’d been Prompto, but Noctis hadn’t thought about touching him as much as he thought about someone else doing it while he watched. He’d found a video, some five minute amateur porn shot on a phone, and the guy had been slender and blond, with messy hair and fair skin. The man fucking him looked nothing like Noctis, but Noctis didn’t care. It was the sight of someone making a guy who looked like Prompto come, getting him off, making him fall apart in pleasure…that’s what Noctis liked.

Even now, as much as he liked having sex with Prompto, just the thought of watching him touch himself made Noctis half-hard in his pants. Or would, if he wasn’t clutching a sex pill his dad gave his advisor so he could have sex with a demon as mandated by a magic treaty.

And that’s when he got the idea that maybe there was something he could do on his wedding night that wasn’t drugs, something that would help. He took a deep breath. “Um. Specs?”

“Yes, your highness?”

“If I said there was something you could do to help me, would you?”  

“Your highness, really.” Ignis drew himself up. “You know you have but to ask. If it is in my power, it will be done.”

Noctis chewed on his lip. Maybe he should ask Prompto about this first? Or no, that would just end up with Prompto yelling at him again. Ignis would at least listen to him, and this plan _did_ technically involve Ignis.

 “Your highness?”

What the hell. “I have this idea. About what might help me. It involves you, and Gladio. And, uh. Prompto.”

Ignis studied him carefully, silent.

Noctis dragged a hand through his hair. He was embarrassed, but he knew he needed to get over it if he was going to make this happen. “On my wedding night, if…if I knew that. Prompto was, uh. Being taken care of? It might be easier for me to perform.”

“Of course we shall take care of Prompto,” Ignis assured him, and then, because he was a very smart man, his eyes went a bit wider. “You mean…ah. You mean you wish Gladio and I to take him to bed?”

Noctis nodded. “Yeah.” The fact that Ignis could say that with a completely straight face was yet another reason Ignis was good at his job.

“And do you have any indication that Prompto would be amenable to this? To my knowledge, every time you have suggested he pursue outside sexual partners, he’s become rather insistent that it’s of no interest.”

“He offered, during your bachelor party. Remember?”

“Ah. Well.” Ignis cleared his throat, minutely. “I rather thought he was joking.”

“Nah. He had my permission. But, uh, I think he probably didn’t make the offer sound very serious.” Noctis could feel his face flush, but he smiled a little despite himself. That had been a hell of a weekend. He was pretty sure Galdin Quay would never be the same. “It was serious, though. We talked about it.”

Prompto might not like the idea of being with anyone else in reality, but in bed, well. That was a different story. Of course, in that particular scenario, Noctis was there, too. Just watching, instead of participating.

 _You’d like all that attention on you, wouldn’t you,_ Noctis had said, the first time he’d mentioned it. _You know how Ignis is. So good with details._

“I do not know if this is something Prompto would agree to, and I think it presumptuous to say anything further until you ask him yourself,” Ignis said.

“But would you guys do it?” Noctis asked. “I mean. You didn’t, at your bachelor party. But would you have, if you hadn’t thought it was a joke?”

“It was also the part where Prompto was a bit intoxicated, and since we’d never discussed it, the lines of content were far too blurred for me to be comfortable,” Ignis said.

That sounded like a _yes_ to Noctis. “Okay. I’ll talk to Prompto.” He exhaled. “I, uh. Do you need me to tell Gladio why this would help me?” He doubted that he would. Noctis had talked to Ignis, some, back in the beginning with Prompto. It had taken some time and some gentle prodding from Ignis, but he’d done it eventually.

“I am sure I can articulate the particulars, but if he has questions, I’ll have him talk to you.” Ignis’s expression eased. “I understand why you’re asking me this, and of course, you understand that this is not something you can order, but must be freely agreed upon by all parties?”

Noctis nodded. Of course he understood that. Privately, Noctis thought it would be harder to talk Prompto into it than Gladio – from what Noctis had heard, it wouldn’t be the first time his very married friends had invited a third into their bed. Lucians, at least those in Insomnia, tended to be rather open about their sexuality. One reason why Noctis had always felt vaguely _other_ and out of place.

His opportunity came later that day, when he and Prompto were alone in Noctis’s apartment. It was a rare thing, especially of late, and Noctis was trying to avoid the part where he was required to have a formal dinner with his father and his – ugh – fiancé in less than an hour. It didn’t give him a lot of time, which meant he needed to cut through the bullshit and get Prompto to agree with minimal fuss.

Yeah. Easier said than done.

“I need to ask you to do something,” Noctis said. “And you’re going to say no, but I need you to say yes.”

Prompto, who was dressed in his Crownsguard attire – and wasn’t that distracting, gods, but he looked good in Noctis’s colors – frowned at him. “Not again. Seriously, I will kick you. Prince, future king, boyfriend…don’t care. _Kick_ you. _With_ the boots, buddy.”

“I don’t want you to date anyone else or be in love with anyone else,” Noctis said, hurrying as best he could to get to the point.

“Okay, great.” Prompto’s eyebrows raised. He did not look convinced in the least. “You’re still getting kicked in the nuts if you bring up the sleeping with other people thing. _Again_.”

Godsdamn it. ”But it would just be the _once_ , and you were already going to do it!”

“Huh?” Prompto blinked. “Wait, what are you talking about? Who was I already gonna do? You’re making things up!”

It was amazing how, despite the fact they were both twenty-three, they could argue like the fifteen-year-olds they’d once been fighting over whose turn it was in a video game. “Ignis and Gladio!”

“That was – dude, I was drunk and you were gonna be there, too.” Prompto crossed his arms. “And they said no, remember?”  

“Because you were drunk and Iggy said you couldn’t really consent.” Noctis walked over and took Prompto’s hands in his, though he did gauge the kicking distance because Prompto did not make idle threats. “I don’t have a lot of time, here. We might not be alone for a while and my wedding is coming up, and look, I can’t fuck Izunia if I don’t have something to think about to get me going. So I need you to have a threesome on my wedding night with Ignis and Gladio.”

There. That was reasonable, wasn’t it?

Prompto started laughing. “I hate you so much.”  When he saw Noctis’s face wasn’t easing into a smile, predictably, his laugh turned into a scowl. “What the fuck? You’re not serious? Oh, fuck my life, you _are._ Noct, _no._ ”

“Do you know, okay, look. When we first…ugh, I don’t have time for this.” Noctis pulled him in and kissed him, hot and urgent. “I really like the thought of them working you over in bed. The way you’re such a fucking slut for attention, you know what that does to me.” Noctis was absolutely going to fight dirty. He knew how.  “Two of them? All over you? Think about it. You’ll fucking lose your _mind_ , gods, I love thinking about it.”

“Noct, fuck,” Prompto gasped, against his mouth, because Noctis was letting him feel it, what the thought did to him, and using words he hardly ever used outside of bed.

“And I know you love me, and I know you’d like it, and please, please just do this for me and trust me that I want you to.”

“Noctis,” Prompto said, and it was never good when Prompto used his full name.

Noctis pushed him up against the window, his mouth hot on Prompto’s neck, the spot where he knew Prompto was incredibly sensitive. “Just the thought of you being between them…Gods, Prom. Feel how hard that makes me?” He pushed his hips forward, letting the impending wedding, his dinner with his loathsome fiancé and the rest of it fall away. “You taking Gladio’s cock, sucking Ignis while Gladio does you from behind – they’ll make you do it just like they want, make you show off, you’ll be so loud….”

“Noct, you – aw, fuck,” Prompto groaned, because Noctis was ruthlessly using every fantasy they ever talked about in bed and Prompto knew it. “This is just fantasy shit, right? You promised that hearing it wouldn’t – it wouldn’t make you –”

Noctis’s hand dropped, rubbing over Prompto’s cock through his pants. “You know what it makes me.” He bit gently at Prompto’s neck, where the high collar of his uniform would hide it. “Give me this, please. Thinking about it gets me so fucking hot, and I’m gonna need it, Prom.”

“Wait, wait, just… _wait,_ Noct, stop.” Prompto pushed him back, gently, and Noctis went. They were both staring at each other, turned on and flushed, breathing hard. “That means take your hand off my dick, dude.”

“I wasn’t moving it,” Noctis grumbled, but he snatched his hand away with a sulky glare.

Prompto pointed across the room. “Go stand over there and explain it.”

If this wasn’t important, Noctis would laugh at how absurdly, wonderfully _them_ this was. “I need to know that you’ll be okay, and…I need something to get me, uh. Worked up enough to do, um.” He waved. “Izunia.”

“You want me to have a threesome. With our friends. So you can get hot thinking about it enough to fuck your husband on your wedding night and _oh my gods,_ why is this a thing that just made sense?” Prompto blinked at him. “You – this is so fucked up. You want to use me and my fantasies to save the world, and I’m supposed to say no to that?”

“You’re supposed to say yes,” Noctis corrected. Hysteria bubbled up in his throat at the absurdity of this conversation.

“No, dude! I’m supposed to be…strong, or whatever!” Prompto dragged a hand through his hair. “Strong enough to prove my loyalty to you by not agreeing to a hot threesome. That’s…this doesn’t even make sense anymore.”

Noctis gave a wild laugh. “Prompto. Just say you’ll do it and I’ll….” He thought for something to offer. “Is there something you want?”

“Yeah,” Prompto said, a weird note in his voice. “If we ever did this, I wanted it to be for fun. It kinda ruins it, you know? And that’s probably not fair. But. It is what it is.”  

“You know what’s not fair? That I’m having a wedding night with anyone who isn’t you,” Noctis said, bluntly. “So things aren’t exactly ideal right now. And I…I’m asking you to do this for me. I know you’ll have a good time and I want you to.”

“I like how you think I’ll be able to have a kinky threesome knowing you’re in bed with that guy.” Prompto took a deep breath. “And what if it doesn’t help? What if you just end up disgusted that you’re being forced into something you’ll hate, and resent me for getting banged six ways to Sunday?”  

“I’m not being forced into anything,” Noctis assured him, though they both knew there was very little else he could have done. “I agreed to the wedding, and this whole consummating the marriage thing was my idea.” Ignis’s, but whatever. Noctis tried a smile. “At least one of us can have a good time.”

Prompto’s eyes looked suspiciously bright. “I can’t stand that Izunia’s doing this. Taking something – something that’s fun, that’s ours, and making it something desperate and sick.”

Noctis’s smile faded. He couldn’t argue with that, and really, what was the Scourge if not that? A blight that leeched every bit of light from the world? He felt ashamed, suddenly, at asking for this. He had no right to be so selfish. Prompto was right. “All right. I’m sorry. If you don’t want to, then you don’t have to.”

“Noct. Hey.” Prompto took an audible breath and moved over to him, reaching out again for his hands and pulling him in close. “I would do anything for you. If this is – something you really need, then you know I’ll do it. I just hate having our sex life…weaponized like this, I guess. But let me at least talk to Ig and Gladio, okay?”

“Yeah. I’m – gods. I’m so sorry.” Noctis pressed his forehead to Prompto’s. “I should just take the sex pill my dad gave me.”

“Let’s just…uh, table that for now, because I don’t think I can even go there.” Prompto slid his arms around him. “And dude, did you kinda just ask me to marry you?”

“I’m already engaged, remember?” Noctis pulled back a little. His smile was tired, wry. “That’s why we’re talking about your threesome with my advisor and my Shield.”

“Yeah, you royals are weirdos,” Prompto murmured, with a slight laugh. “I would have married you if you were just, y’know. Some guy I met in high school who worked part-time at the sushi place. We’d be so boring. An apartment we could barely afford. Eating Cup Noodle because we were broke. I bet I’d have a bike that gets stolen and you’d have some junker car without a muffler that you couldn’t drive because you had a million parking tickets.”

“Sounds awful,” Noctis said, with a choked laugh. It sounded wonderful. “I love you. Idiot.”

“I love you, too. Idiot.” Prompto kissed him, sweetly. “And I really would like to go back to the making out against a window. What was your plan? Get me to agree to a threesome by giving me a handjob and talking dirty in my ear?” He paused. “Why was I saying no, again?”  

Noctis laughed. “So it would’ve worked, is what you’re saying.”  

“Well, yeah. Your voice is pure sex, dude.” Prompto pushed him away again. “And you know how I feel about your handjobs.”  

Noctis heard his phone chime and groaned. “I have to get ready for dinner.”

“Go.” Prompto kissed him again and gave him a little shove. “I’ll go talk to Gladio and Iggy. Meet you back here after? I’m supposed to go meet up with Captain Ulric at the Gate bright and early when he gets back with Lady Lunafreya.”

Thinking about seeing Luna again was nice, but Noctis was quickly getting to the point where everything was threatening to overwhelm him and he had to focus on nothing but the immediate task at hand. Which was dinner. With Izunia. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Hey. I’ll – it’ll be okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…well. Be difficult.” Prompto looked worried, and Noctis hated having to put that look on his face. Prompto looked so strange without a smile.

“You should be. That’s usually my job.” Noctis leaned in, kissed him again, and then moved away to get dressed. He could hear Prompto on the phone, likely calling Ignis, as he finished changing into his suit. His hair was impossible, but he put some product on it and raked his fingers through it a few times. It wasn’t as if he particularly cared what Izunia thought about his looks.

Prompto, however, gave him an appreciative once-over when Noctis came out of the bedroom. “Damn, Noct. Looking good. I’m going to Iggy’s for dinner. Marshal Leonis is with the King, so I’ll take you to the dining room.” He shook his head. “I’d kiss you, but I’m not sure I wouldn’t mess you up and we should probably go so you’re not late.”

Prompto walked with him to the formal dining hall – it was only the three of them for dinner, Noctis, his father and Izunia, and should by rights have been held in a smaller, more intimate setting. That it wasn’t, well, that was probably intended as an insult. Noctis didn’t know Izunia at all, but somehow he doubted the man really cared all that much.

He left Prompto with a nod and a warm look, then did what he’d been taught from birth and brutally compartmentalized his feelings to endure the evening ahead. His father was clearly doing the same thing; he was every inch a monarch, dressed in full regalia and looking as lifelike as a portrait. Noctis’s father was a kind man with a good sense of humor beneath the stern, understated demeanor. There was no hint of that now, as he stood waiting for Noctis in the dining room.

Noctis almost walked right by Izunia without realizing it. Gone were Izunia’s rather flashy, mismatched clothes; he was dressed almost austerely in a suit as dark as Noctis’s own. His hair was tamed back in a low ponytail, and for the first time Noctis noticed the strands of dark black woven throughout the improbably violet purple. The style emphasized his sharp features, the brilliant, unnatural gold of his eyes – and there was something so oddly familiar about him, Noctis couldn’t shake the sensation that they’d met before even though he knew they hadn’t.

He was, however, wearing a scarf. This one was blood-red, clashing boldly with Izunia’s hair.

“Prince Noctis,” Izunia murmured, taking his hand. “You look quite handsome this evening.”

Izunia was wearing gloves, again, and these weren’t fingerless like before. No part of his skin touched Noctis’s, which meant that there was no reason for the strange sensation that flooded him when Izunia took his hand. It burned low in his stomach, edged and hot. Anger, certainly, but Noctis had been angry before and it had never felt quite like this.

“Emperor Izunia,” he said. “You look less like a carnival barker than last time.” He bowed.

Izunia grinned, his bright eyes sparking with malicious amusement. “I thought perhaps it best to learn the ways of my new House, and it would seem the Caelums are a bit lacking in flair.” He winked. “Perhaps I’ll buy you a scarf or two for a wedding gift, dearest.”

“Don’t bother,” Noctis said, baring his teeth.

“Noctis,” his father said, flatly. “Take your seat. We have much to discuss.”

Noctis pulled his hand away. He couldn’t stop staring at Izunia, who was staring right back with a little smirk on his face and oh, Noctis could feel his fingers twitch, wanted to pull his magic forth and wipe that look of Izunia’s face with a blade. The thought of sinking it into Izunia’s stomach was – fuck, was that getting him _hard_?

“Certainly, your majesty,” Noctis said, and went to take his seat.

He had a horrifying feeling that Izunia knew exactly what he’d been thinking.

***

Prompto waited until after he’d eaten two bowls of Ignis’s green curry soup before saying, “So, you know about Noctis’s plan, right? Tell me he already brought it up, because if he’s making me do it I’ll probably kill him.”

“Nah. Can’t let you do that.” Gladio leaned back in his seat and shot Prompto a slight grin. “I’ll let you punch him a few times, though.”

“No one is punching the prince.” Ignis wiped delicately at the corners of his mouth with his napkin. Prompto didn’t know why; it’s not like Ignis had anything there to clean off. “But, yes, Prompto. If you are referring to his highness’s suggestion that we, ah, entertain you on his wedding night, he did mention it.”

“Entertain me.” Prompto shook his head. He was blushing, but really, who wouldn’t be? This whole thing was so…something. A word no one had invented yet, Prompto was sure of it. “Yeah, well. I mean. I don’t know what you think about it, so. Uh.” He flushed hotter. Weirdly, he’d just assumed the rejection from the bachelor weekend had been a polite _we’re not into you._ Somehow knowing it was just because he was drunk…

Damn. He could have had his threesome and Noct could’ve watched, and it would’ve been fun and had nothing to do with his boyfriend’s impending marriage to a demon.

“Well, I for one was a bit surprised to learn your offer that weekend of our bachelor party was serious,” Ignis said. “I thought you were merely intoxicated.”

“Geez, Iggy. You think I proposition everyone when I’m drunk?” Prompto squirmed under that stare, which, yeah, okay. There was definitely a reason he and Noct talked about this whole threesome thing. “It was serious. But I thought you guys weren’t into it.”

“I was merely uncomfortable with the idea since we had never discussed it sober,” Ignis pointed out.

“Well, duh, how else was I gonna bring it up?” Prompto laughed and shook his head. “But this, uh. This isn’t the same, since Noct wouldn’t be there.”

“Guess it makes sense, Noct being a voyeur. It’s like the napping version of sex.” Gladio laughed. Prompto, though he really shouldn’t, did too.  

Ignis gave them both a thoughtful look. “I’m not sure how much of this is Noct’s desire to have you accounted for, Prompto, and how much is his belief that thinking of us together will give him the physical response necessary to…ah. Do his duty.”  

“Fuck the Emperor,” Gladio said. “Just use your big-boy words, Iggy.”

Ignis frowned. “I’m speaking of this as a matter of politics, not personal satisfaction, Gladio. It’s a bit easier on everyone, I think, if we keep that in mind.”

“Is it, really, though?” Gladio shrugged. “Maybe I’m just used to using my body in the service of my prince, but…I don’t see what the big deal is. Prom, you don’t think one night of getting fucked by me and Iggy – or, y’know, whatever you’re into – is gonna make you fall in love with us, do you?”

Prompto just stared at him, still a little thrown at the whole _getting fucked by_ and _whatever you’re into_ part of that sentence. “Uh. No? I mean. No offense, you guys are great and all. But it was literally just about the sex.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“It’s a fantasy that should never become a reality for a reason other than pure sexual enjoyment,” Ignis said. “Which is why I reminded you both to keep this in the realm of politics, not personal.”

“It’s fucking, Ig,” Gladio pointed out. “It’s personal by nature.”

Prompto thought about Noct in bed with Izunia, and his good mood evaporated. “I don’t know if it will really help. I mean, yeah, Noct gets, uh. Really into the idea, but that’s not…is it enough for him to….?”

“Fuck the Emperor,” Ignis said, with a glare at his husband. “To use my big-boy words. My suggestion, for what it’s worth, is that we agree that we will do this, since what Noctis seems to need is the reassurance. It would seem he has fantasized enough about what it would be like to provide the necessary images to get him aroused, even if we don’t follow through on the activity when the time comes.”

Talking about Noct and sex like this was so weird, but Prompto tried to remind himself that it was necessary. It was one night, and yeah, it was less than ideal but what was the alternative? “We can’t lie, though. If we say we’ll try, he’ll know that means we might not do it.”

“We tell him that we promise to take you to bed,” Ignis said. “And we will. Whether all we do is sleep when we get there, well, not even Noctis can dictate that.”

It was a testament to the seriousness of the situation that Prompto didn’t snicker at _dictate_ in that context. He sighed. “Yeah. Okay. That sounds good. But that means…I mean. We might end up fucking, right? Just…look, I need to be, y’know. Prepared.”

“You will be,” Gladio said, and winked.

“So glad you can joke about this,” Ignis said, sighing.

“I’m not trying to make light of this,” Gladio said, and his expression went as serious as Prompto had ever seen it. “It’s just…I feel so fucking helpless, you know? I want to pummel that smug bastard’s face in, and the thought of him touching Noctis, yeah, he’s not my boyfriend but he’s my _prince_ and my friend, and it makes me furious. This? This is something I can do. A Shield protects with his body, and…seems to me, that’s what I’m being asked to do, here.”

Prompto and Ignis stared at him.

Gladio shrugged and took a drink of his beer. “That’s why maybe I don’t seem as conflicted. I’d die for Noct if I had to. This? Yeah. This I can do. Be nice to do something that isn’t painful.”

“That’s…an astoundingly good way of putting it, darling,” Ignis said. “I suppose there is something to be said for that. If this is a thing Noctis wishes us to do, it is our choice if we do it in sorrow or joy. We are friends, and if our friendship can combat the – I’m overthinking it again, aren’t I.”

“Yeah. But that’s okay. It’s why I love you.” Gladio smiled at him. “That, and your cooking.”

“And to think I only married you for your impressive abs and your equally impressive cock,” Ignis said, straight-faced.

Prompto choked on his tea.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you this thing was full of polyamory and cheerful non-monogamy, right? Also I just want Ardyn Izunia in a suit, is that too much to ask? 
> 
> Forever borrowing dead peppers for fanfic since FFIX and the chocobo hunting that ate up a LOT of my time. Like. A lot. :|   
> (BUT I GOT THAT TREASURE HUNTER TROPHY, OH, YES.) 
> 
> Next time: A wedding, a wedding night, and a surprise. All Ardynoct all the time, 'cause there's a lot that goes on and it's, uh, mostly porn. WITH COMPLICATED FEELINGS. :D?


	8. mine must be the shame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Noctis turned toward Ardyn, who took the pen and leaned over the podium. He was watching when Ardyn signed his name – which he did so slowly, precisely, the corner of his mouth tilted up. It was the first glimmer of an expression he’d shown since the ceremony began._
> 
>  
> 
> _He had elegant handwriting. His letters had a bit of a flourish to them, and unlike Noctis, he took up all the space allotted when he signed his name._
> 
>  
> 
> _Which was not Ardyn Izunia._
> 
>  
> 
> (In which Noctis's wedding day arrives, along with more than a few surprises. Ditto his wedding _night_.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks to @marmolita who is a dear and is beta'ing this for me (meaning she's correcting all my misuse of titles and capitalization issues! she is a doll and should be given many nice things) and did not flinch when I was like "Ummm so this is 12K, sorry?" 
> 
> NSFW content at the end of the chapter, and while i want to reiterate there is no non-con in this fic, Ardyn and Noctis aren't fond of each other. There's some face smacking, snide commentary, potentially disturbing conversations about evisceration and Ardyn's Scourge!face involved. But it's all consensual. :D?

Noctis’s wedding day started at dawn.

And for the first time in his entire life, he was glad for the excuse to get out of bed.

He’d slept all of two hours, curled tight around Prompto, and every time he closed his eyes he had the dream again – standing at an altar in black robes with a crown of stars, a winged figure standing behind him. In front of him was the Lucian Crystal, all jagged broken teeth and bright cold magic.

For the first time he saw his face. He was older, bearded, and the dream made as little sense now as it did when he first had it. Was he seeing the future when he would become King?

Noctis reached out toward the Crystal and felt it pull him inexorably forward – only to have a hand wrap like a vise around his wrist and pull him back.

 _I don’t think so,_ a voice purred. Izunia’s. _You’ve taken enough._

Noctis woke up half hanging off his bed and muttering. Finally, he decided he might as well get up. The sooner this day started, the sooner it would be over with. He kissed Prompto, assured him he was fine, and got out of bed.

The first thing he had scheduled was a private breakfast with his father. Noctis threw on some slightly-wrinkled casual clothes and headed toward his father’s private rooms. He nodded at the Crownsguard on duty, who bowed and told him His Majesty was expecting him.

There was a table all set up near the window, skirted with black linen and set for breakfast. His father, dressed as casually as he ever was in a set of silk, monogrammed pajamas, smiled as Noctis entered.  “Good morning, Noctis.”

“Morning.” Noctis walked over to join him at the table. “So. This is it.”

“Yes.” His father’s hand settled warm on his shoulder. “I hope you were able to get some sleep.”

“I got enough.” Noctis leaned a little into the touch. “It’ll be fine.” He wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince his father, or himself. _It’s one day. One night. You can do this._

His father glanced down at him. His hand was still on his shoulder. “Ignis said you refused my gift.”

Ugh, no. They weren’t going to talk about the sex pill. “Dad,” he said, clearing his throat. His face was flushed. “Can we not talk about that right now?” He winced. “Or ever?” 

Regis smiled briefly. He looked tired, too. Noctis wondered if he’d gotten any sleep, himself. “Of course. Would you like breakfast? I promise there isn’t a vegetable in sight.”

The last thing Noctis wanted to do was eat. But he sat across from his father at the table, poured himself some tea, and did feel a wave of fondness for the pastry that sat waiting on his plate. “Ignis said he got the actual recipe for these.” He took a bite. It was a shame he wasn’t hungry, because it was delicious. Not that it was any surprise, considering who’d made it.

“Yes. Apparently Ambassador Nox Fleuret passed along the secret of the sea salt.”

“Ambassador?” Noctis asked, brows quirking. “Huh. Didn’t get _that_ memo.”

“You did,” his father said, dryly. “It was likely in one of Ignis’s reports. I wouldn’t be too concerned. You have enough to deal with.”

“Yeah.” Noctis did like the pastry, but he managed only a few bites. His father was eating whole-wheat toast, fruit and something that was probably yogurt. He did, however, have one of the pastries on his plate, too. He took a deep breath. “When this is over – the wedding – are you going to take down the Wall?”

His father sighed heavily and set down his fork. He didn’t seem to have much more of an appetite than Noctis. “There is some considerable debate in the council whether or not that is advisable. At least for a little while.”

Frustration made him grip the edges of his teacup a little too tightly. Noctis gentled his grasp on the delicate china with effort. “What’s the point of doing this at all, if you’re still going to  –” Horrified, he felt his eyes sting. Noctis was all too aware of his father’s slow, deteriorating health from maintaining the Wall and the Glaives. “Izunia says he can keep the daemons at bay.”

“I’m not sure anyone trusts him to do it,” Regis said quietly. He reached across the table and laid his hand on Noctis’s. The Ring of the Lucii was the only adornment he wore. “I will be fine, Noctis. I believe we will be able to convince the council to take down the Wall in due time. None of us are entirely comfortable trusting Izunia, myself included. The Crystal is a harsh master, but at least we know that we control it, and that its magic keeps us safe.”

Noctis wasn’t so sure they _did_ control it. He trusted the Crystal more than Izunia, but that wasn’t saying much. He still remembered the prophecy that demanded his death, and the price his father paid for its protection was evident in the brace he wore on his knee, the cane he used sometimes when even that wasn’t enough.

“There’s something I want to give you.” At Noctis’s expression, Regis laughed – a hearty laugh, genuine, and it was good to hear. “Not what you’re thinking, from that horrified look on your face.”

Noctis ducked his head. He couldn’t deny he’d been worried he was about to be gifted some other magical sex aid. His father reached under the table and brought out a small box, wrapped in a simple black bow.

“I’m not sure if you’re aware, but I only met your mother twice before our wedding. The first was at our betrothal ceremony, and the second was the family party the night before we said our vows.”

_Did you need a pill to –_

No way was Noctis asking that. He was horrified he’d even _thought_ it.

His father’s smile was a little crooked. It was very similar to Noctis’s own – the smile he gave Prompto, or his friends, when he was feeling relaxed and happy. It had been some time since Noctis had seen it. “Since I’m sure you won’t ask, on our wedding night, your mother and I ate ice cream sundaes and talked about movies. That’s all.”

“Dad.” Noctis flushed, embarrassed in that way only children can be, when a parent references their sex life.

“I made your mother a promise that night. She knew her duty to the kingdom was to give it an heir, and what that entailed. But I had no intention of being a demanding or insensitive husband. I wished us to be friends, and that takes time. I wanted that more than anything – well. Your mother _was_ a beautiful woman.”

Noctis slouched in his chair like a sullen teenager. “I can’t believe you’re telling me this.”

“Now, Noctis, you’re aware of how you got here,” his father chided, but he still seemed amused. Even kings liked to embarrass their adult sons, apparently.

“Yeah, but we don’t have to talk about it,” Noctis muttered.

His father took a sip of his tea. “Your mother and I loved each other very much, Noctis. But it didn’t happen right away. We were friends first. In that way, I think perhaps you and I are alike.”

“You’re not telling me I should eat ice cream with Izunia tonight, are you?” Noctis asked, suspicious.

“I’m not saying you _shouldn’t_ , but no. As it happens, this has nothing to do with Izunia.” Regis’s mouth tightened just a bit. He clearly disliked Noctis’s intended as much as Noctis did. “Open the box, son, and I shall explain.”

Noctis did. Inside were two rings; simple things, just bands, devoid of any gem or inscription. He glanced at his father, waiting for the explanation.

“They’re mythril,” his father said. “The strongest of all metals, and the rarest. One was your mother’s, and one was mine.”

Noctis’s brow furrowed. Traditionally, Lucian kings wore no other adornment but the Ring of the Lucii. He and Izunia would exchange rings in the ceremony, but when Noctis became king, he would replace it with his father’s as was custom. 

“Three years or so after we were married, your mother and I took a vacation to Galdin Quay. We went for a walk on the beach, and we exchanged those rings in private and with nobody there to witness but the sea. It was for us, not the kingdom.” His father’s voice was soft, gentle. “Do you understand?”

Noctis smiled. “Yeah. Wow, Dad.”

“I’m not entirely without a romantic bone in my body, no matter what Clarus says,” his father said, and laughed at Noctis’s expression. “And in case you’re wondering, yes, she always knew about him. She understood, and supported it.” His smile turned sly. “More than, in fact.”

“Nope. Don’t want to hear it.” Noctis had always assumed if his father and Clarus’s relationship was ongoing during his marriage, that it wasn’t something that happened behind the Queen’s back. His father was far too honorable for that. But that didn’t mean he wanted to know the details.

“Before she died, your mother removed asked me to keep these rings for you. She wanted me to give them to you on your wedding day, for she, too, knew that you would likely not marry for love. But she wanted you to know that it did not mean love was something forbidden from you. And that friendship is very often the first, and most important, step.”

Noctis stared at his father. His father stared back. Noctis was missing something, obviously. His father had subtlety down to an art form.

“Noctis,” Regis sighed fondly. “As I said, I think you are very much like me. You fell in love with someone who has been your dearest friend. Am I right?”

Ah. Noctis finally understood.  “You think I should give Prompto a ring.”

“Prompto? No, I meant Luna,” his father said, straight-faced. He chuckled quietly at the huffy look that earned him. “Yes. I think perhaps it might help. Your King approves of and accepts the choice you have made and the marriage that will take place. Your father –” his voice went rough, and it took him a moment to compose himself. “Your father never would have wished this for you in all the world. But it eases my mind, somewhat, to know you love someone as much as I loved your mother. A person I believe is worthy of your heart.” 

Noctis glanced down at the box. The idea of giving one of the rings to Prompto made him feel warm all over. Part of it was the embarrassment of talking about his boyfriend to his father – on his wedding day to someone else, no less – but part of it was simple happiness that his father accepted and understood what Prompto meant to him.

“He’d die if he heard you say any of that.” Noctis glanced up.  He, too, had to clear his throat a few times. “Thanks, Dad. I – it means a lot.”

Regis’s smile was soft and a little sad. “You will make a fine king when the time comes, son.” He paused. “If you ever learn to sit up straight.”

Noctis, who had sort of slumped down in his seat, gave a startled little bark of laughter. “Right.” He closed the box and sent it to the Armiger, then found he had enough of an appetite to at least finish half his tea – and the rest of his pastry.

All too soon, they were interrupted by Ignis. “I beg your pardon, Your Majesty, but it is time for His Highness to prepare for the ceremony.”

“Of course, Ignis.” His father rose to his feet, and Noctis followed suit. “If you would give us a moment, I shall send Noctis with you.” Regis looked kingly and unperturbed, all hints of his earlier softness and affection smoothly hidden beneath his royal veneer.

Before Ignis could leave, Noctis said, “Specs. You totally nailed it.” He lifted the plate that was now bereft of a pastry. Ignis looked pleased before bowing gracefully and indicating he would wait for Noctis in the hallway.

When he was alone with his father once more, Noctis gave him a suspicious look. “You’re gonna say something else I don’t want to hear, huh.”

Regis shook his head. “Only that I want you to understand, Noctis, that as your father I have a great many feelings about all of this. As the king, I know the people need to believe and trust in this treaty, and therefore, I will show none of them.”

“So king face will be at level ten, then,” Noctis said. “Gotcha.” He bowed. “The crown prince is probably not going to be as good at that, Your Majesty. But he’ll try. He just can’t help wanting to punch his future consort right in his smug face.”

His father snorted, then smoothed his expression once more. “The king knows that the crown prince will put the interests of his kingdom first. Your father would like nothing more than to throw the first punch.”

Noctis smiled slightly. “Let’s stop with the royal third person. I know you hate it as much as I do.” He twisted his fingers together, uncertain as always when it came to expressing emotions. “I. Thank you. For, uh. Breakfast, and. The rings, and telling me about – about Mom. It was good to hear.”

His father reached out and drew him into an embrace. “Know that you are loved, my son, and walk tall.”

Noctis hugged him back. As much as they didn’t do this often, it was familiar enough to be comforting. Noctis closed his eyes and let himself feel safe and protected, like he always had as a child when his father held him. Eventually, Noctis pulled back. He pretended his father’s eyes weren’t bright with unshed tears. He pretended his own weren’t, either.

“I should go.”

“Yes.” Regis’s expression eased. “I shall see you at the ceremony.”

Noctis nodded. “Yeah.” There really wasn’t anything left to say.

***

Noctis’s wedding suit was traditional Lucian-black, imprinted with skulls and the jacket edged with the traditional gold raiment worn by the crown prince. While Noctis could appreciate the fine craftsmanship that had gone into its creation, the thing was oppressively heavy and already too hot. He wished he could have just worn his regular clothes. Noctis understood a certain amount of fanfare went into a prince’s wedding, and maybe if he wasn’t marrying the Starscourge, he’d be less inclined to resent it.

He had no idea what Ardyn would be wearing and didn’t much care. Let him show up looking like a traveling carnival barker as he had the day he’d arrived. Hell. He could even wear that stupid hat for all Noctis cared.

Maybe _Noctis_ would wear a hat, too. His ballcap. He seriously considered doing it as a small act of rebellion, but it would likely come across as an insult to the tailor and that seemed unnecessarily cruel. The man had done his job. It wasn’t Vesta’s fault that Noctis was marrying a literal monster.

 “Noctis?”

At the voice, all his misgivings and anxiety seemed to melt away. He turned to see Luna standing in the doorway, smiling shyly. Her blue eyes were softly shadowed and she was more than a little sunburned. But he was so glad she was there that her name turned into a desperate, choked sort of sound when he said it. “Luna.” 

She rushed in and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly despite the ornaments on his jacket. She smelled good, like fresh air and sunlight, and the warm glow of her magic soothed him immediately.

“Hey,” he said, when they’d moved apart. “You’re here.”

She nodded. “We arrived last night. I apologize for not finding you straightaway, but it was late and I was so tired.” She smiled. “And my Glaives fussed.”

Noctis knew that Luna’s Glaives were more than just her security detail. He was happy for her. If anyone deserved to be loved, it was Luna.  “I’m surprised they didn’t try and keep you from coming back.” After the reports of what Galahd looked like post-withdrawal, he had no doubt both Nyx and Crowe would like to join the Ardyn-punching-bag line.

Crowe would probably cut in front of the king _and_ Noctis.

“They know how much it means to me to be here for you. But Nyx has threatened to put Crowe in a dungeon if she starts a war.” Luna’s giggle was girlish and sweet. “Are there dungeons in the Citadel, do you know? Nyx says so but we think he’s making it up.”

“Nah. We have civilized holding cells now. No dirt floors and the manacles are the padded kind.” Noctis reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “You look good, though. Healing must agree with you.”

“It does, yes.” She fussed over his raiment, smoothing the fabric beneath her hands. “Oh, but you look so handsome! Are you doing all right with all of this?”

Noctis shrugged. “I guess so. It’s not like I can change anything. I agreed to it, and it really will make things better.” He wondered how long she was staying, and if he could enlist her help in convincing the Council to take down the Wall. Now wasn’t the time to talk politics, though. “I’m not exactly happy about it, but no one is crazy enough to think I should be, so. That helps.”

“And Prompto? I saw him briefly this morning.” 

He’d been okay the last time Noctis had seen him, though that had been in the shower before they’d both gone to get dressed and had involved blowjobs. He didn’t tell Luna that, though. “He’s okay. It’s not like he didn’t know I’d have to get married one day.”

“Yes, well. Knowing it and seeing it happen are two different things. Besides. I daresay he never expected you’d be marrying Izunia.” She gently carded her fingers through his hair. Her touch, as always, was as calming as warm water. “We can look after him, if you like.”

He assumed she meant her and her Glaives. Any other time, he might like thinking about what that entailed - or a fantasy of what it might entail, since he doubted she meant it that way. Now, however, he just gave her a soft, grateful smile and took her hand in his. “Thank you. But Ignis and Gladio are on it.” 

“I’m glad.” She squeezed his hand. “You do look wonderful. Very princely. I’m sorry that your wedding day isn’t the joyful day it should be.”

“I’m keeping track how many times I hear that. If it’s more than ten, I’m gonna buy myself a new fishing rod.”

Luna pressed a hand to her mouth briefly in amusement. “I can imagine. But the sentiment is true nonetheless. Those who love you, and there are many, only want you to be happy.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Be at ease, Noctis. All will be well, and while there may be little joy in your heart for yourself this day, the people will celebrate tenfold the gift you are giving them.”

“Great,” Noctis said, dryly enough that she laughed and kissed his cheek one more time before leaving.

There was a slight knock a few minutes later. At first, Noctis found himself irritated that his precious solitude was being invaded…until he saw who it was.  “Hey.”

Prompto stood there, decked out in his Crownsguard dress uniform. Noctis remembered seeing Prompto in it for the first time. He had barely been able to keep his hands off him. The stark black contrasted with his bright blue eyes and blond hair, made his fair skin almost glow and showed off his freckles. Everything was tailored to fit Prompto’s lean, muscular frame.

 _You look so fucking hot,_ Noctis had said, practically shoving him into a wall. _You look like you belong to me._

 _Because I do,_ Prompto had said, between kisses. _You’re the crown, I’m the guard. That’s how it works._

Noctis had fucked him over the back of the couch after sucking him off. It was a nice memory.

“Lookin’ good, buddy.” Prompto’s voice was caught somewhere between admiration and misery. Exactly how Noctis felt, then. “This is, uh. Weird, right?”

“Yeah. It is.” Noctis thought of the rings, safe and sound in the Armiger. He thought about taking Prompto somewhere and giving one to him. A ceremony that mattered, unlike the farce he was getting ready to participate in.

The thought did more to strengthen and calm him than even Luna’s healing touch.

It propelled him forward, so he could grab for Prompto’s gloved hands and tug him close. He knew they were supposed to be interacting only as the crown prince and his crownsguardsman, but this might be their last moment alone for the day. Propriety could wait. “Prom. When this is all over and things have settled, let’s go somewhere, okay? Just me and you. We’ll go to Wiz’s Chocobo Outpost. There’s some good fishing spots and places to take pictures around there, too.”

Prompto’s smile was bright and happy. “Yeah? Okay. Sounds good.” He took a step forward. “It’s – this’ll suck. But you’ll get through it. Think about fishing.”

Noctis had a feeling it might be the last time he laughed for a while. “Yeah. Look, you – you know I love you, right?” He was probably not supposed to be tired of emotional conversations _before_ his wedding ceremony. But then again, none of this was going the way it was supposed to.

“Yeah. I know.” Prompto leaned in, then paused before he touching Noctis. “Uh. I wanna kiss you, but I’m pretty sure if I mess you up in that outfit, I get fired.”

Noctis kissed him, hands sliding down the front of Prompto’s jacket. “Nah. I’m the prince. No one can fire you but me.”

“You gonna wear that jacket when we go on our trip?” Prompto murmured, against Noctis’s mouth. “Pretty fancy.”

“Hell, no. It’s uncomfortable and stuffy as fuck.”

Prompto kissed him again. “There’s the prince I know and love.” He pulled away, and his smile faded a bit. “Not that, um. I don’t like kissing you and being sappy and shit, ‘cause I’m into it. But, uh. I think maybe it’s against the rules.”

“Haven’t you heard? I’m the prince who breaks all the rules.” Noctis pitched his voice low, like he was narrating a movie trailer.

Prompto snorted. “Uh-huh. You’re the prince of naps, the prince of fishing –”

“ _King_ of naps, and _king_ of fishing, thank you very much –”

“And the _king_ of wearing the same black shirt three days in a row and hoping no one notices,” Prompto finished. The banter wasn’t quite on par as usual, but it was close enough to make Noctis feel a little better.

“That was _one time_ in high school, and it was because I had to do my own laundry.” Noctis folded his arms across his chest. “It was Iggy’s fault, anyway. He was taking exams.”

“Aw. Poor baby.” Prompto’s expression turned serious. “I just want you to know, Noct. Nothing is gonna happen to you. I won’t let it.” His chin tipped up and his shoulders straightened. Prompto might have his issues about not being noble-born, but you’d never know it looking at him now. He was a crownsguardsman through-and-through. “I’ll shoot that motherfucker dead if I have to.”

“Pretty sure him being immortal means you can’t do that,” Noctis said.

“Won’t know unless I try.” Prompto’s smile was flat and cold, a far cry from his usual sunny expression. It was still pretty hot, though. “I have a lot of bullets and I’m more than willing to keep shooting.”

“Appreciate that, Prom.” Noctis leaned in and kissed him again. “If anyone was gonna turn my wedding into a first-person shooter, it’d be you.”

Prompto snapped out a smart salute, then gave him a wry smile. “That top score has my name all over it, buddy. Hey. I love you, Noct. It’ll be okay.”

At least Noctis could believe one part of that.

“Hate to break this up,” a gruff voice said. “But Prompto. Marshal Leonis wants to brief you.” Gladio stepped in the room, dressed in the same uniform as Prompto. He also looked good in it, but it was hard to imagine Gladio not looking good in anything.

“Probably to tell you not to turn my wedding into a video game,” Noctis teased, though it was admittedly a little flat. He caught Prompto’s eyes and they exchanged a last, warm look before Prompto bowed and made his way out of the room.

Gladio exhaled softly. “You okay?”

“What do you think?” Noctis looked back in the mirror. He met Gladio’s eyes in the reflection. “I just want to get this over with.” He paused. “You and Iggy still okay with the plan?”

“Yeah. If it’s what Prompto wants, we’ll do it.” Gladio stepped forward. He put a hand on Noctis’s shoulder, much in the same way Regis had done that morning. “I know this isn’t fair to you. But I know why you’re doing it. I went for a run this morning and you could hear people cheering outside in the streets. I just wanted to say…I give you shit all the time, but you know I’m proud as hell to be your Shield, right?”

Gods, he couldn’t _take_ all this emotional shit. Noctis gave a sharp nod. “Yeah.” He tried to think of something to say to Gladio, to express his own appreciation for Gladio’s stalwart, trustworthy presence. For the fact he _did_ give Noctis shit all the time, because they weren’t just Shield and Prince – they were friends. “You – me, too.”

“Wow. Prince Charmless strikes again.” Gladio’s severe expression eased into a smile. He clapped Noctis on the shoulder. “Stop scowling. Your face’ll stay that way.”

 _Good,_ thought Noctis. Wasn’t like he was planning on doing a lot of smiling in the next few hours. “ _Your_ face’ll stay that way.”

He got a rough hug for his efforts. Noctis scowled harder. “If you mess up my hair, I’ll punch you in the stomach.”

“Don’t want to go to your own wedding with a broken hand,” Gladio said. “Besides. How could anyone tell? Your hair is always a mess.”

“Gladio, do stop roughing up His Highness. Noctis, I believe it is time to make our way to the throne room.” Ignis was also wearing his Crownsguard uniform, though he never looked anything but perfectly put together in whatever he happened to be wearing. He took in Noctis’s outfit with a pleased expression. “The tailor did a wonderful job. You look as regal as I’ve ever seen you. When you’re not in a headlock, of course.”

Noctis tried his best to smile at Ignis. “Guessing there’s no time for a quick nap, huh.”

Gladio snorted. “You’ve never taken a quick nap in your life.”

“Sadly, no. Though I think we’d all like to nap through this.” Ignis’s smile was reassuring. “You remember what is required of you, during the ceremony?”

“Pretty sure he can’t forget it. You’ve gone over it enough,” Gladio muttered.

Noctis knew by now that Ignis expressed his concern by fussing, and Gladio by growling. Like Prompto and his father, they were trying their best to comfort him. “Yeah, Iggy,” he said, touched as always by Ignis’s consideration. “I know what to do.”

He half-expected Gladio to make a joke about _and you know what to do after the ceremony, right?_ followed up with a wink and a nudge. But he didn’t, which was probably for the best.

“Then shall we?” Ignis swept his arm toward the door.

Noctis and forced himself to shut down every single emotion he was feeling with brutal efficiency, then took one last look in the mirror. He looked cold and unapproachable in the suit, and maybe it wasn’t a level ten kingface, but it had to be at _least_ a seven.

It’d have to do. “Yeah. Let’s do this.” He walked out of the room with his head held high, trusting, as always, that his friends were at his back. 

***

Noctis’s wedding ceremony had all the solemnity of a funeral.

Ardyn had dressed up for the occasion. Instead of his layers of absurd patterns and mismatched fabrics, his attire was simple if not a bit old-fashioned. The tunic-style shirt and pants, along with the high boots, looked like something Noctis had seen in a history book.

He had a bright red sash across his chest, and that, along with a black silk ribbon securing his hair back in a ponytail, were his only accessories. Some of the violet strands had already escaped, though, as if his hair was somehow diametrically opposed to staying neat. Well, look at that. Looks like they had one thing in common.

Noctis had the strange thought that Ardyn’s profile looked familiar, when he wore his hair back like that. But he didn’t have much to think about it before the ceremony began.

Lucian wedding ceremonies were never very long. Most people got married in civil ceremonies, though a few went old-school and did the traditional Temple blessing. Ignis and Gladio’s wedding had been of the civil ceremony variety, though with a bit more pomp and circumstance than normal, considering they were nobility. Noctis’s wedding to Ardyn was as clean-cut and brief as they could make it, and the whole thing couldn’t possibly take longer than thirty minutes.

Even five minutes in, though, it felt like an eternity.

They stood next to each other, facing the throne; Noctis in his full regalia and Ardyn in his weird archaic throw-back to whatever century spawned him in the first place. Regis sat, stone-faced, looking nothing like the gently smiling man from Noctis’s early-morning breakfast. In between was a podium with the required documents that would need to be signed – someone had tied a black ribbon around it in an attempt to be festive.

There was a small bouquet of sylleblossoms from the royal gardens in a vase next to Regis’s throne. Luna’s contribution, Noctis figured.

Gladio, Ignis and Prompto stood like sentinels behind Noctis. Clarus Amicitia and Cor Leonis flanked Regis’s throne.

Ardyn stood alone.

Noctis recited his vows in a voice that was firm if not loud, making sure he held Ardyn’s gaze the whole time. The vows seemed to fit the tone of the ceremony; they spoke more of duty to kingdom and country than any personal sentiment. As he’d been instructed, Noctis referenced the treaty that waited to be signed, vowing to abide by the tenements therein until death.

Ardyn repeated the same vows back, though he surprised Noctis by taking his hand, saying something in a language Noctis did not recognize, and bowing over his hand. Noctis wondered if it was a curse.

When it came time to officially sign the treaty, a low, audible murmur swept through the great hall. Noctis took the pen first and leaned forward to sign his name. When he finished, he summoned a dagger from his Armiger and cut his finger, then pressed the bloody smear to the contract next to his signature and vanished the weapon. He’d offered to let Ardyn use it, when they’d discussed the particulars of the ceremony, but Ardyn had said he’d take care of it.

Noctis turned toward Ardyn, who took the pen and leaned over the podium. He was watching when Ardyn signed his name – which he did so slowly, precisely, the corner of his mouth tilted up. It was the first glimmer of an expression he’d shown since the ceremony began.

He had elegant handwriting. His letters had a bit of a flourish to them, and unlike Noctis, he took up all the space allotted when he signed his name.

Which was not Ardyn Izunia.

It was _Ardyn Lucis Caelum._

And then, as Noctis stared in shocked silence at the name written so elegantly on the contract, there was a flash as Ardyn summoned a dagger of his own; from an Armiger that glowed bright red.

The crowd gasped in unison. Ardyn laughed under his breath and used the dagger to cut his own finger. The blood was the dark oozing black of the Scourge, but he smudged it next to his name and disappeared the dagger back into the red of the Armiger he should not have.

No wonder Noctis had thought Ardyn looked familiar. He was a Lucis Caelum. And he wielded the power of kings.

There was no time to do anything about the revelation. The contract had been signed, and the magic took hold and made it official.  It was a clash of light, blue and red and black, the colors all knotting together before absorbing back into the contract.

Ardyn was a Lucis Caelum, by birth and now by marriage. Whatever it meant, Noctis felt a dark, growing dread that it couldn’t be anything good.

The silence from the crowd was not so much respectful as stunned.

“Let this solemnize the marriage between Crown Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum and Prince Consort Ardyn Caelum,” Regis said, his voice betraying nothing of the shock he must have felt at seeing Ardyn wield an Armiger. “Let your union be sealed and remain unbroken as long as you both shall live.”

Ardyn turned to Noctis and took his hands. Noctis stepped forward, and Ardyn kissed him. 

Noctis bit his lip, hard, in response.

“Later, my dear,” Ardyn murmured, pulling away. His tongue touched the bruised place where Noctis had bit, his eyes gleaming. He tucked Noctis’s arm in his, and together they turned to face the crowd.

King Regis intoned behind them, “Let the people know that the war is over, and that peace has come to Lucis at last.”

Someone – Noctis didn’t know who – was responsible for leaving the throne room and making the announcement. It didn’t take long; it was only a few seconds later that the sound flooded the throne room, pouring in from outside. Cheering.

There was no such sound in the great hall as Noctis and his new husband made their way down the stairs. But in that moment, it was enough to hear the joy he’d brought his people – and for the first time, Noctis felt worthy of his title. 

***

The reception, such as it was, was held in the royal gardens. There were plenty of refreshments, though Noctis felt bad for the caterers. This was supposed to be the fun part of a wedding. He hoped they’d get to take all the leftovers home with them. There’d probably be a lot.

He wondered if Ignis had stress-baked everything on the dessert table.

Noctis had not wanted a reception initially, since he thought most people would prefer to celebrate where they could actually be happy about the peace treaty. And he had no doubt that people would leave this gathering as quickly as possible, heading somewhere they could do just that. But it had been pointed out that the people should know the prince was celebrating the treaty if not his marriage, so Noctis had agreed.

He and Ardyn stood next to each other in the shortest, saddest version of a receiving line. Not very many people seemed eager to come and greet them. Noctis didn’t blame them. He didn’t even want to be here.

Noctis glanced over at his new husband. Ardyn had a polite smile on his face, but his gaze was shrewd as he surveyed the gardens. He’d barely said a word to Noctis.

“What was it you said?” Noctis was almost surprised to hear himself ask. “When you bowed over my hand. I didn’t recognize the language.”

Ardyn glanced over at him. “And here I thought the first question you asked would be something else entirely.”

“I’m not having that conversation here,” Noctis said flatly, “and I asked you a question.”

Ardyn arched a brow down at him. Noctis’s father could do that. Noctis could not. He didn’t want to think about whether that was an inherited trait or not. “Someone’s feeling rather imperious. All of that gold cording on your jacket doesn’t make you a monarch, darling.”

Noctis’s jaw went tight. Ardyn’s usual interactions with him vacillated between mockery and thinly-veiled dislike, so he wasn’t sure why he was surprised by the snide comment. “And this marriage doesn’t make _you_ one, either.”

Ardyn’s smile inched into something genuine. “Oh, well done. Do forgive me, my sweet. My mood is rather dour for such a joyful day, but as it happens, I am not overly fond of this garden.”

Noctis blinked. He had no idea how anyone could dislike it here – even if you didn’t like plants, it was undeniably lovely and well-maintained. “This garden’s won awards for the plants. Some of them are the oldest in Insomnia.”

Ardyn’s short laugh was bitter. “Yes.”

Okay, fine, whatever. It’s not like Noctis didn’t know Ardyn was a weirdo. “And you still haven’t answered my question. Either of them.”

“Alas, I cannot answer your question about my dislike of this garden since you have declared that conversation is not happening.”

“Ugh.” Noctis glared at him. “Can you ever just answer things without all the extra words?”

“Certainly.” Ardyn _winked_ at him. “As for the other, it’s an old proverb. It translates roughly to _even a saint must be threatened._ ”

Of all the things he was expecting Ardyn to say, that wasn’t it. “You threatened me at our _wedding_?”

“Ah, so you think yourself a saint, do you?” Ardyn laughed at Noctis’s glare. “It was merely a way of saying I shall be a worthy adversary, how’s that?”

“Adversary?” Noctis remembered his dream and tried not to shiver. “I thought we were at peace. That’s what this whole marriage thing was for, wasn’t it?”

“It wasn’t a promise I made to the kingdom, but my consort who will one day be its king.” Ardyn turned toward him, and Noctis realized how unsettling it was when Ardyn focused all his attention on him. “I shall be the dark to your light, as it were.”

It sounded like Ardyn’s usual theatrical nonsense to Noctis. But an odd choice of a thing to say, when no one could have heard or understood what he’d said. “Oh. I thought it was a curse.”

“Of course you did.” Ardyn patted him on the shoulder. “I expect nothing less. Would you care for a glass of water? You must be quite parched. I’ve heard you speak at least four, five sentences today.”

Noctis might have laughed, if anyone else had said that. As it were, his mouth twitched a bit before he could stop himself. “Then you must be constantly thirsty. And yeah, sure.”

Ardyn smirked at him, and then went off to find him some water. Noctis normally wouldn’t trust anything Ardyn gave him, but he supposed that it didn’t matter now. The treaty was signed, and they were married. Ardyn could not hurt him if he did not wish to violate it.

Noctis accepted the glass of water Ardyn handed him and took a long drink. He really had been thirsty. He nodded at Ardyn in thanks, unable to bring himself to vocalize his gratitude.

Gladio, Ignis and Prompto were on duty, so they did not approach either Noctis or Ardyn. Luna did, taking Noctis’s hands in hers and smiling gently at him. Crowe and Nyx, in their Kingsglaive best, flanked her like a personal guard.

Luna surprised Noctis by stepping up in front of Ardyn and saying, “Your Grace. It would appear I owe you my thanks.”

Noctis startled at that. He frowned. What on earth would Luna have to thank Ardyn for?

“I’m assuming you’re referring to Ravus?” Ardyn waved a hand. “Surely you must know that the devil always rewards his most faithful servants. And your brother was most certainly faithful.”

Noctis had no idea what they were talking about. He looked around to see if Ravus was there – he thought he’d caught sight of him during the ceremony, but if he’d attended the reception he’d already left.

“I wished him to return to Tenebrae,” Luna said quietly. “But he says it is my place to rule as Queen, and he shall remain as ambassador as per your request.”

“Did he? How nice. I assure you, my lady, it _was_ a request, not an order. He is free to do whatever he likes, though I am not surprised he has no ambitions to rule over your newly-independent country. You should count yourself lucky to have a brother who seeks not your throne, but only see you safely up on it.” Ardyn bowed. “Not all of us have been so fortunate.”

Luna’s gaze was direct, unflinching. Noctis had the distinct feeling it was making Ardyn uncomfortable. “It came as some surprise to me, Your Grace, to know that you could still heal.”

Still? Wow. Noctis was obviously missing something, here. He glanced at Nyx and Crowe, but they were too busy glaring daggers at Ardyn to give anything away.

Ardyn’s expression flashed with sudden malevolence. “To take the Scourge from someone to whom _I gave it_ is not the same as healing, Lady Lunafreya. Best you don’t mistake that, ever again.”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps there is more than one way to heal, Your Grace.” Luna inclined her head and left with her Glaives before Ardyn could reply.

Ardyn was _seething_ beside him. Oh, he had that polite, pleasantly empty smile of his firmly in place but Luna had clearly gotten to him.

 _Good. Score one for Luna._ Maybe he shouldn’t think that. The treaty kept Noctis safe from Ardyn, but that didn’t mean other people were. “Hey. Don’t hurt her.”

Ardyn shot a look down at him that was as close to _pissy_ as Noctis had ever seen on him. “You assign me far more murderous intentions than I possess, Noctis. Trust me when I say that if I wanted her dead, she would be.”

“I said don’t hurt her.” Noctis grabbed at his arm and pulled him in closer, leaning up to whisper in his ear. “That’s not the same thing as killing her.”

Ardyn rolled his eyes. “I have no intention of harming Lady Lunafreya. She’s done what I have needed her to do, and it matters not to me what becomes of her.”

Noctis realized he was grasping Ardyn’s arm and made himself let go, moving a bit away from him. He wasn’t one to lash out in anger quite like that. Then again, no one had ever made him quite as angry as Ardyn.

_Even a saint needs to be threatened._

Noctis suddenly wanted this whole thing to be over.

 “Come on,” Noctis said, his voice grim. “We have one thing left to do.” 

“In a hurry to go to bed, are we?” Ardyn smiled and touched his hand to his chest. “I’m flattered.”

“Don’t be. It’s icing on the cake of the worst day of my fucking life.”

Ardyn inclined his head. “Far be it from me to deny my bridegroom. Lead the way to the marriage chamber if that’s what you wish.”

“It’s not really about what I wish and you know it.” Noctis exhaled slowly, seeking out his retainers. He met Ignis’s eyes and gave a brief nod. Then he glanced over at Prompto.

Prompto held his eyes for a long moment. Then he put his hand over his heart and bowed low. Noctis’s own heart felt like it might break, right there in his chest, standing amidst the colorful flowers of the royal gardens with a monster smiling beside him.

***

They would consummate their marriage in the rooms that had been given to Ardyn as Prince Consort. Noctis had refused to even entertain the idea of doing so in the bed he shared with Prompto. Unofficial boyfriend or not, Noctis couldn’t do that to him.

Ardyn must have moved in already -- his hat was on the sofa, and there were books on the table next to it. The moment they were alone, Ardyn immediately reached up and took off the red sash, tossing it haphazardly toward one of the chairs. He did the same with the ribbon tying back his hair. It went wild and messy as if it could do nothing else. Like Noctis’s.

He remembered the Armiger flashing red in the throne room. “Okay. First thing’s first. Is – can a marriage be annulled if you’re related?”

Ardyn looked genuinely startled by the question. It might have been the first time Noctis had seen him look surprised. “I am not an expert on Lucian law, but I do not think so. Plenty of royal marriages involved parties who were closer in relation than you and I, Noctis. Believe me.”

“But you are. Related to me, I mean.”

Ardyn inclined his head. “Distantly, but yes.”

“How distantly?” Noctis demanded.

“ _Quite_ distantly,” said Ardyn. “As distantly as possible. Do not worry, it isn’t as if we are going to have children. Besides. As you saw at the ceremony, I no longer bleed the red of the blood royal.”

“Next question.” Noctis swallowed, hard. “You said you wanted revenge on my line. But you – you _are_ my line. My line is destined to bring down the Starscourge…is that because it’s our fault it exists in the first place? And by _ours,_ I mean, is it _yours_?”

“As most things are, it’s far more complicated than that.” Ardyn studied him. “Do you wish to hear this, now? It is a long story, and I should like to tell it in my own way, if I might. Consider it your wedding gift to me, to allow me to tell you in the manner of my choosing.”

“Swear to me that waiting won’t invalidate the treaty,” Noctis said, concerned first and foremost that this would all be for naught.

“It shan’t do anything of the sort. Noctis, do recall that as far as I was concerned, our treaty was to be ratified at the time of our wedding, and would only be invalidated if you killed me or had children. It was you and your retainer that insisted we fuck.”

He wasn’t expecting Ardyn to use that word. Noctis flushed, but he ignored it. “We wanted to make sure that you couldn’t claim our marriage was invalid and get rid of me and take the throne.”

Ardyn smiled. “Of course. I expected something in the negotiations, but I admit that this wasn’t quite what I had in mind. No matter. Now, shall you indulge me and allow us to finalize this marriage before I tell you the sordid tale of the line of Lucis Caelum? Why, you might even agree with me that ending it with you is the best of all possible outcomes.”

Somehow Noctis doubted that. And as much as he did want to know what the story was behind Ardyn being his _relative_ , he wanted to get this part over with even more. No doubt the truth of Ardyn’s desire for the marriage was hidden somewhere in the story. Noctis needed to be at his best when he heard it.

He was not at his best right now. Not even close. “All right. Let’s – yeah. But you’re going to tell me.”

“Oh, Noct,” Ardyn breathed. “I’ve spent longer than you know _dreaming_ of telling you.”

“Okay, okay. Cut the drama and let’s go get this over with.” Noctis turned and walked through a doorway that led to the bedroom.

The room looked like any other royal apartment. Lavish, well-appointed, and the bed large and luxurious. Looking at it made Noctis’s stomach churn with nerves. Gods, he hoped he could do this. He _needed_ to do this.

He _would_ do this. 

Noctis found himself facing a very large mirror, with Ardyn coming to stand behind him. “This jacket looks uncomfortable. Permit me to assist you in removing it.”

Noctis sucked in a sharp breath as Ardyn reached out, his entire body drawn tense and still even though Ardyn only touched his shoulders. It was still far too close for comfort, though he supposed it was only going to get worse from here. He gave a jerky nod to show his consent.

This had been Noctis’s choice. He would see it through to the end.  

“It seems ever my lot in life to take uptight young noblemen to bed,” Ardyn murmured, and Noctis wondered what the hell that meant and swore to himself not to ask. His hands rubbed at Noctis’s shoulders, and it would have felt good if it were a massage from, say, Gladio. Ardyn had big hands and strong fingers, but just having him this close was doing the opposite of making Noctis relax.

Still. Noctis said nothing when Ardyn started taking off his coat. He made short work of the buttons, easing it off Noctis’s shoulders and tossing it toward a chair. Noctis should say something about that, maybe, but he couldn’t seem to find enough breath to speak.

The jacket really had been too hot. The cool air was a relief, even though he was still wearing his dress shirt, pants and boots. Ardyn stood behind him again, hands going to Noctis’s hips. Noctis forced himself not to pull away, though his eyes fell shut so he didn’t have to see.

“You look rather miserable,” Ardyn murmured. “I believe I can be of some assistance. Open your eyes.”

Noctis wasn’t sure why, but he did so. Ardyn lifted one hand from Noctis’s hip, sliding it up so that it rested splayed beneath Noctis’s collarbone. Almost as if he were going to grab Noctis and choke him, except that he didn’t. His hand was just there, a burning weight through the fabric of his shirt.

“You’re quite lovely, you know. Even an Astrals-cursed monster could not fail to appreciate your physical charms. But that’s not why I’m rather eager to bed you. Would you like to know what really, really does it for me, Noct?” He began working at the buttons on Noctis’s shirt, his bright gold eyes holding Noctis’s own captive in the reflection.

Anger sparked through Noctis, though he wasn’t sure why. All he knew was that his hands were fisted at his side, and his breathing was coming too fast. His face, he could see, was reddening as if he was about to fight. “What really, really does it for you, Ardyn?”

“Ah, he uses my name at last!” Ardyn’s chuckle was low and warm, intimate in a way that set Noctis’s teeth on edge. He dropped his head so he was speaking right into Noctis’s ear, and his fingers were stroking lightly over Noctis’s throat. “You’re the only thing on this planet that could kill me. And yet, you cannot – you _won’t,_ and you yourself made the choice not to.” 

Noctis hissed as he felt Ardyn kiss gently below his ear. He wanted to throw his elbow out into Ardyn’s stomach but he didn’t.  “Never say never.” He tried not to shiver as Ardyn’s chuckle ghosted over sensitized skin.

Ardyn’s mouth touched gently at Noctis’s neck. “Oh, Noct. Don’t tease. But perhaps….” Ardyn’s hand dropped and began finishing with Noctis’s buttons, sliding over his chest. Noctis couldn’t take his eyes away from their reflection _._ “Perhaps it might arouse you to think about what it might be like if you could.”

“If I could – could what?” Noctis sucked in sharply as one of Ardyn’s hands inched closer toward the waistband of his dress pants.

Ardyn’s chuckle was a rasp against Noctis’s neck. “You know the answer to that. But if you want me to say it, then I shall. Perhaps it might get you off, thinking about killing me.” His hand settled over Noctis’s cock, which was shamefully half-hard in his pants. 

Noctis couldn’t look away from the mirror. The look on his own face was as close to murderous as he’d ever seen it. Ardyn was kissing at the back of his neck, one hand still caressing his throat, poised somewhere between threatening and gentle. His other hand was rubbing lazily over Noctis’s cock.

“Well?” Ardyn’s low voice was edged with mockery and the beginnings of his own arousal. “Wouldn’t you like to sink that dagger of yours into my stomach? Wouldn’t it feel good to _eviscerate_ me?”

 “Yes,” Noctis hissed, his head dropping back. He was panting, all his anger, all the _unfairness_ of the situation, channeling into something he’d never felt before. It was too violent, too sharp to be lust, but it was closer than he wanted to admit. “I – _yes_.”

 “You know, if it weren’t for that pesky little detail where it would work and ruin – well, everything -- I’d let you do it. But since we cannot, perhaps you’ll just have to make do with sinking something _else_ into me, instead.” Ardyn was kissing the side of his jaw. One of his hands came up and turned Noctis’s head toward him.

Ardyn kissed him. Noctis let him. When Ardyn bit his lip, it was hard enough to draw blood.

Noctis made a noise and kissed back, reaching one hand up to tangle in Ardyn’s hair. “What the fuck is this?”

“Call it threatening the saint, if you like,” Ardyn murmured. He pushed his hips forward, and Noctis could feel that he, too, was hard. “Call it incentive. Call it good, old-fashioned bloodlust. It’s what is going to make you want to fuck me, darling. And not just that.” Ardyn licked up the side of his neck. “It’s what’s going to make you fuck me, and _like_ it.”

Noctis blinked, his eyes hazy with lust. He was pushing himself into Ardyn’s stroking hand, almost captivated by the sight of the two of them in the mirror. It was wrong. Noctis hated him. His cock was so hard it was painful. “Yeah? You think so?”

Ardyn smiled, slow and pleased. His eyes looked like they were burning. “Oh, I _know_ so,” he said, catching Noctis around the throat again. This time he squeezed his smile falling away. “Now. Take me to bed and fuck me like you wish you were killing me.”

The noise Noctis made was not one he’d ever heard come out of his mouth before. His tongue ran over his bottom lip and he tasted his own blood. Ardyn’s eyes went dark. “You like that?” Noctis murmured, reaching up to curl his fingers around Ardyn’s wrist. He didn’t try and pull Ardyn’s hand away. Not yet. Something about the weight of it around his neck made this better. “You like making me bleed?”

“Oh, I have _longed_ to see your line shed blood before me, Noctis.” Ardyn’s voice had completely lost its mocking cadence, and he watched Noctis in the mirror with an expression of unadulterated hunger. “So, yes. I like it quite a lot.”

Noctis reached up and tangled his fingers in Ardyn’s hair. He ran his tongue over his bleeding lip, back and forth, showier with it than he almost ever was. Noctis pulled Ardyn’s wrist, forcing him to let go of the light hold Ardyn still had on his throat. Noctis turned so he was facing Ardyn instead of the mirror, yanked Ardyn’s head down and shoved his blood-stained tongue in Ardyn’s mouth.

Ardyn _moaned._

Noctis pulled his mouth away. “And how’s that taste? Worth waiting all this time?”

Eyes glittering, bereft of all his usual smarminess or mockery, Ardyn’s smile was nothing but cruel. He grabbed Noctis’s chin between his fingers and forced Noctis’s gaze to his. “I brought an empire to its knees, for just that taste. Now, highness. Take what you want from me. Strike me, scratch me, make me bleed for you. Don’t make me ask you again.”

“Shut up.” Noctis wasn’t sure he meant that, entirely; something about Ardyn’s voice urging him to do these terrible things, to give this sick desire free reign, it was helping.

Noctis wanted to fuck him. Hard, and rough, with all the anger he’d kept on a simmer since the day he’d understood why his father aged so much faster than everyone else. Since the day he’d learned that he was not a man but an ideal set up to die. Since the day he’d accepted Ardyn’s proposal to save his kingdom by damning himself.

Since that kiss at the altar.

Noctis made an inarticulate sound and pulled at the tunic Ardyn was wearing; Ardyn helped him get it up and over his head, leaving him bare chested. Noctis shrugged out of the unbuttoned shirt and pushed Ardyn blindly toward the bed.

“I – get on the bed. On your back.”

“As my prince commands.” Ardyn didn’t do it right away – of course not. He grabbed Noctis’s dark hair and yanked his head back, then kissed him hotly, like he was chasing that brief taste of blood.

Noctis shoved his shoulders and Ardyn let himself be pushed backward. Noctis followed him down, uncaring about his suit pants and his boots, climbing on top of Ardyn to straddle him. Just as the panic of _what the hell are you doing?_ started to surface, Noctis brought his hands to Ardyn’s chest and scratched all the way down to the waistband of Ardyn’s pants.

It left reddened lines on Ardyn’s skin that bled black. Noctis stared at them, the way they cut through the dusting of hair that was the same improbable color of purple, and had a hard time catching his breath.

Ardyn reached up to catch his hand. He was still wearing his gloves. The leather was soft and cool against the skin of Noctis’s wrist. His body felt too-hot, like he was burning up. “My little kitten has claws.”

“Shut up,” Noctis panted. He wasn’t sure that he meant that at all.

Ardyn smirked up at him. “Do you want me to tell you to _make me_?”

Noctis smacked him across the face. It was incredibly satisfying. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to do that.”

“I have some idea.” Ardyn tilted his face as if he were showing off. _Or asking for it._ “Go on. Harder. Make me feel it.”

Noctis smacked him again, and again. Each time he did it so hard that his hand hurt. It left reddened marks on Ardyn’s face that Noctis couldn’t stop staring at. He was grinding down against Ardyn’s cock without realizing it. When Ardyn’s attention switched to his pants, Noctis didn’t stop him.

He was not thinking of Prompto, or the threesome that he’d insisted Prompto have with Ignis and Gladio. He was barely thinking at all. He was simply reacting to the touch, the way the leather of Ardyn’s fingerless gloves felt stroking the hot flesh of his cock.

“Take – take off your gloves.”

Ardyn’s bare hand on his cock felt good. Noctis bucked his hips, not wanting to lose the fine edge of anger that was powering his lust. Ardyn’s took one of Noctis’s hands and carried it down to his own stomach. “That’s where you thrust your dagger, and then you pull it up.” He dragged Noctis’s hand up to his sternum. “To eviscerate me.”

Yeah. He knew how to kill a man with a dagger, a lot faster than that. “No. You do it here.” He pulled his hand free, then shoved Ardyn’s head back and exposed his throat. He drew his finger from one side of Ardyn’s neck to the other. “It gets you hot. Knowing I could do it right now.”

“No.” Ardyn grabbed him by the hair to pull him down, still stroking his cock. “It gets me hot knowing you could, but _you can’t._ ”

“Yeah. You don’t get to win that easy.” Noctis smiled fiercely.

“You speak as if you know the rules to a game you don’t even know you’re playing,” Ardyn taunted. He took hold of Noctis’s hips and pulled him up to straddle his chest. “Come here. Let’s get you ready to fuck me. You can’t slit my throat, but I’ll let you fuck it as hard as you want. How’s that?”

It wasn’t as if dirty talk was something new – Prompto was fond of talking when doing just about anything – but Ardyn’s was a different sort entirely. Probably because Prompto made him happy, and Ardyn…yeah. Whatever this feeling was, Noctis couldn’t say he hated it, but he also couldn’t say he _liked_ it, either.

Ardyn grabbed him by the hips and pulled him in close, mouth opening. He took Noctis’s cock in and started sucking, and Noctis shuddered hard as the pleasure nearly made him come. Noctis put one hand on the wall behind Ardyn’s head and stared down into that smirking, _hateful_ face – and started fucking his throat for all he was worth.

When Ardyn choked, Noctis felt it like lightning – it started at the base of his dick and rushed up through his spine, making him nearly fall over from how good it felt.

He pulled away when he was near the edge. Ardyn’s mouth was slick and wet, lips swollen. “Are you ready to fuck me?”

“Yeah.” Noctis climbed off him so he could watch as Ardyn removed his boots and then his pants, leaving him naked with his legs spread. He stroked his own cock, watching Noctis. Waiting.

“I – we need –” Noctis could barely make his brain work through the fog of lust.

“I’m quite ready, and you can’t hurt me. Come, now. I’m eager to see if you fuck me with the same fervor you fucked my mouth.”

Apparently Noctis’s spit-slick cock was enough; Ardyn just shifted so that Noctis could get into position between his legs. His voice was gruff, all mock-affection that sounded as close to hateful as it ever had. “Come, dearest Noct. Show me the power of kings.”

Noctis hated him, and he wanted him, and he thrust inside too fast and all at once in a way he never would with someone who wasn’t a monster. Ardyn’s body was tight and hot, almost _too_ hot, but Noctis’s brutal entry just made him moan, his head going back and exposing the long line of his throat.

Noctis reached up and grabbed him by the throat while he fucked him, completely graceless, slipping and trying to find some way to make it harder, deeper. He wasn’t holding back, either choking him or fucking him, but Ardyn didn’t seem to mind. Quite the opposite. He moved his hips to meet Noctis’s thrusts, and he made sounds that suggested he was enjoying every moment of Noctis’s rough treatment.   

At some point he was aware of Ardyn stroking himself off and Noctis knocked Ardyn’s hand away to do it himself. Ardyn was still talking, saying _that’s it, show me how much you hate me_ , but Noctis didn’t care anymore, he was close, he was so fucking close…

When Noctis came, it seemed to go on a long time. His body went rigid as he shuddered through it, wave after wave rushing over him and making his vision go white at the edges while he came inside the tight heat of Ardyn’s body. He half-collapsed when it was over, trying to catch his breath. He was dimly aware of Ardyn spilling in his fist, and the noise he made was – well. Maybe Noctis imagined it. He wasn’t going to think about how _inhuman_ it was.

Eventually, Noctis disentangled himself and moved to sprawl on the bed. He turned his head at length, gazing at Ardyn with heavy-lidded eyes. This was usually the part where he’d go to sleep. He wished that he could, but they weren’t done yet. And it was hard not to feel annoyed by that.

 “That’s quite the look,” Ardyn drawled, lazily, stretching like a cat. “Did you not enjoy yourself? It seemed as if you did.”

“I got off, if that’s what you mean.”

Ardyn huffed a laugh. “Yes. I noticed.” His eyes ran down Noctis’s body, and he propped himself up on one elbow. “Perhaps I should tell you that I don’t intend to fuck you like I want to kill you.”

“Can’t you just do it and not talk to me about it?” Noctis frowned when all that got him was a chuckle. “Yeah, I’m not kidding.” Noctis sighed and put his arm over his eyes. “Fine. Since I can tell you want me to ask. How are you going to fuck me, Ardyn?”

“That bored tone of yours, it really does you no favors.” Ardyn tapped two fingers on the side of Noctis’s face – not a slap, exactly, but close enough to make Noctis drop his arm and open his eyes. “Perhaps I would enjoy taking my time.” 

Noctis scowled, batting at Ardyn’s hand that was rubbing down over Noctis’s chest. “Yeah, no. Pretty sure neither of us would enjoy that.” He went still as Ardyn moved, far too quickly for a man of his size, rolling over so he was braced above Noctis on his elbows.

“I daresay you’re wrong about that.” Ardyn lowered his head, intending to kiss either his mouth or his neck.

Noctis never let him do either. He put his hands on Ardyn’s shoulders and shoved, driven purely by instinct. No way did he want Ardyn on top of him. “Get off me.”

Somewhat to his surprise, Ardyn complied. “Oh, you’re so much work. Let’s at least take your pants off.”

Noctis sat up, swung his legs over the bed and finished stripping. His fingers were shaking a bit in the aftermath of what he’d just done. He had a feeling that the eerie, almost unnatural sense of calm he was feeling wasn’t going to last very long.

Noctis turned and lay back on the bed. He was surprised to see Ardyn’s cock was hard again. “Uh.”

“Immortality has some perks.” Ardyn tilted his head, smiling at Noctis from behind the messy fall of his hair. How was that color natural? Because it was – Noctis was staring at Ardyn’s cock, and the hair there was a little darker in shade but still close enough. 

Noctis wondered if anyone else in his family ever had that hair color, then immediately stopped thinking about it.

“If you don’t want me on top of you, how do you suggest we do this?” Ardyn asked like he was suggesting somewhere to go for dinner. “You on your hands and knees? Your side? My, are you _blushing_? What a delight. Here I thought fucking a man while talking about killing him would cure you of your modesty.”

Yeah, they needed to get on with it. Was it possible to stab him and not have it come across as attempted murder, just some minor assault? “Just not on top of me. I don’t want that.”

“Well, then. All right.” Ardyn reclined back on the bed in a gesture that looked far too practiced to be genuine. Noctis wondered who Ardyn really was, when he wasn’t caught up in all his posturing.

Was he the man who’d come while Noctis fucked him? Or was that just another carefully constructed façade? Was it stupid that Noctis wanted to see Ardyn as he really was? Probably.

“Come here.” Ardyn patted his own hips with his hands. “Where you were before. That seemed to work, and it can certainly be done this way. I assume you don’t have my particular, ah, abilities to take a cock without preparation?”

“If you’re asking if you need to use lube, the answer is yes.” Noctis concentrated on the Armiger, and a tube of his favorite kind flashed into his hand. He handed it over without a word.

“How very practical of you.” Ardyn took the tube, opened it, and slicked up his fingers. “The conveniences in this modern age are truly a thing of wonder. You have no idea the things we were forced to use in my day. Messy, and constantly stored in easily-breakable glass vials. _Very_ inconvenient.”

Noctis stared down at him, hands resting lightly on Ardyn’s chest. He frowned. “Are you going to keep talking?”

“I suppose it depends. Are you going to keep glaring at me?” Ardyn’s mouth quirked up.

“If I stop glaring, do you stop talking?” Noctis had to lean forward when Ardyn reached behind him, lube-slicked fingers sliding down between his legs. When he felt those fingers rub against his balls and slide lower, his breath caught between his teeth.

“I suppose you’ll just have to try it and see.” Ardyn was far more gentle than Noctis, when it’d been his turn. He took Noctis’s cock in his other hand, stroking slowly as he worked a finger in and out of him.  “That’s it, very good. Oh, but it is going to delight me to no end to make you like this, Noct. It truly is.”

Noctis glared down at him. “Still talking.”

“Still glaring.” Ardyn pulled him down and kissed him. Against his mouth, Ardyn murmured, “Can you take me?” His fingers were fucking Noctis open with precision, expertly nailing his prostate with each thrust.

Heat washed through Noctis, his cock stirring again. “Yeah. Do it.”

“As my prince commands.” Ardyn lifted him with an almost uncomfortable ease, shifting and positioning the head of his cock against Noctis’s hole. “There we are. Take your time, don’t rush, we wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

The look Noctis gave him must have conveyed his disbelief. Ardyn slid his hands around Noctis’s hips, moving him gently down as he thrust up, giving Noctis the entire thick length of his cock. “I have no real taste for causing pain.” 

“You hate me,” Noctis reminded him, starting to breathe harder as Ardyn’s cock rubbed him just right. It felt – gods. It felt good, he’d never taken anything this big before that was attached to an actual person.

“And you hate _me._ And yet. It would seem as if we have found some common ground, at least.” Ardyn’s hips pushed up with a bit more strength, as Noctis began to move faster on top of him. One of Ardyn’s hands left Noctis’s hip to stroke his cock. “That’s it. Take your pleasure of me.”

Noctis didn’t want to. But the fullness was too much, the angle too perfect, the lightning-sharp burst of sensation too addictive. Noctis started riding him in truth, and Ardyn matched the movement with his hips.  For a few quiet moments, there was no sound but their breathing, the sound of their bodies moving together in a rhythm that was surprisingly easy.

His gaze caught in Ardyn’s and held. They stared at each other as Noctis moved faster. The moment stretched out, too intimate, and Noctis heard himself say, “Show me who you are. Who you _really_ are.” 

“That’s what you want? To see the thing I am, behind this human mask?” Ardyn’s voice was breathless, and he was into it, Noctis could tell. He had no idea how Ardyn could say that stuff with someone riding his cock.

Another perk of immortality, maybe. The man’s vocabulary was certainly impressive.

“Yeah. That’s what I want.” Noctis fucked himself on Ardyn’s cock, his thighs burning. Ardyn was stroking him off, and Noctis’s cock was slick with lube and pre-come. The sound of Ardyn’s hand moving up and down over his length was obscene.

Ardyn’s laugh sounded all wrong. “Far be it from me not to give my darling husband what he wants on our wedding night. Very well. If you want to see, then you shall.” His face went death-pale white, the Scourge lining his veins black. The sclera of his eyes filled, making the gold burn as bright as hellfire. They looked endless. Like doorways.

Noctis stared. It was horrific, inhuman, _monstrous._ And it was exactly what he wanted to see, Ardyn as he really was. But he thought vaguely of his dream, the wings and the curved horns. This wasn’t all of it, but for now, it was enough.

Noctis shoved his fingers in Ardyn’s mouth, wondering at the thrill it was giving him to do this, to ride Ardyn’s cock and look into the face of the Accursed himself. “Get me off.” _I don’t want to forget what you are. Not even when you’re making me feel good._

It didn’t take long. Noctis felt Ardyn’s tongue curl around his fingers, and the teeth that nipped at him were too sharp. His eyes – Noctis couldn’t look away from Ardyn’s eyes, the amber ringed in inky black. Noctis pulled his fingers free, tangling them in Ardyn’s hair again.

Noctis leaned down and kissed him when he came, his sound of pleasure caught somewhere in Ardyn’s mouth. He could feel it when Ardyn came, the slight hiss and the way his hips jerked, broad frame shuddering beneath Noctis.

By the time Noctis had once again climbed off him, Ardyn’s appearance had returned to that of a human man. Noctis was sweaty, and sticky, and he felt numb. It was over. The marriage had been consummated, and now he could leave Ardyn’s rooms and never come back.

His eyes felt heavy. He wondered if it was safe to sleep next to Ardyn, especially given what he’d just seen. But that was the point of the treaty, wasn’t it? Ardyn couldn’t hurt him. And Noctis was so tired. Surely it wouldn’t hurt, just to close his eyes for a moment….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The phrase Ardyn said to Noctis is Κι ο άγιος φοβέρα θέλει in ancient Greek (which I like to think would be the dialect of Solheim), and really does translate as "even a saint needs to be threatened" which is kinda great. Also it's translated into modern greek as "the saint wants it," which...well, as you can see, he kinda does? Heh. 
> 
> NEXT TIME: THE AFTERMATH. Basically there are some misunderstandings that have to be cleared up, before Ardyn tells Noctis a bedtime story and reveals the truth of his plan at last. STAY TUNED!


	9. didn't know i had permission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ifrit’s balls,” the Marshal said. “I hate when people cry in my office.”
> 
> This was officially the worst day of Prompto’s _life._  
>  ____________________________  
> (In which Prompto and Noctis have a misunderstanding.
> 
> Then they make up.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to @marmolita for the beta, as always! 
> 
> NSFW Noctis/Prompto at the end of this chapter, and uh, it's the reason this story's rating went up to E. *coughs* (I DID SAY EVERYONE IN THIS WAS VERY POLY, RIGHT) 
> 
> Uh, these boys are real dumb at the beginning of this. I'm sorry. I yelled at them, too. Especially Noctis .

Chapter 9

Noctis wasn’t there when Prompto got back.

He let himself into the suite, his heart hammering unpleasantly in his chest as he made his way toward the bedroom. He half-expected the door to be closed, but it wasn’t. Nor was Noctis in the bed, wrapped up in the blankets and the dead to the world.

Prompto felt both relieved and worried at finding the room empty; relieved, because if he’d been getting fucked six ways to Sunday by his friends and Noctis had been hurt and miserable and lying in bed alone, Prompto wouldn’t have been able to forgive himself.

And worried, because if Noctis wasn’t here…where was he?

The whole royal wedding thing had taken way less time than Prompto expected. The ceremony had been short and the reception, while it had  _ felt  _ like it took an age, hadn’t been all that much longer. So he’d gone with Ignis and Gladio, they’d had some rum from a bottle of the good Galahdian stuff that Nyx provided, and then they’d done what Noctis had wanted them to do.

A few times. It turned out that threesomes were  _ really  _ good for distracting you when your best friend was otherwise engaged with the Scourge incarnate. Who knew?

_ Noctis, apparently. _

And that made him feel guilty, because he spent  _ all night  _ with Ignis and Gladio and didn’t even think that maybe Noctis would have done what he needed to do then come back. Needing Prompto, and Prompto hadn’t been there.

The room was empty, the bed neatly made. If Noctis  _ had  _ returned, he was gone again. And Prompto didn’t know what to think about that, because where would Noctis  _ go _ ?

He sat on the bed, thinking about what he should do. He checked his phone for the five-thousandth time that morning, but there were no messages.

_ Noct. Where are you?  _

Prompto didn’t have long to wait. He sat there, wracked with indecision and guilt, until he heard the door to the main room of the suite open. Followed by footsteps, and then…

There was Noctis. Standing in the doorway, half-dressed in his fancy suit with his jacket slung over his arm. He blinked at Prompto.

Prompto stared, his mind whirling as he tried to think of something,  _ anything _ , to say. “Um. Hey.”

Well. That was brilliant.

“Hey.” Noctis’s voice sounded dead. He didn’t move from his spot in the doorway.

The seconds of awkwardness felt like an eternity.

_ Get it together,  _ Prompto chastised himself firmly. “Are you okay?”

Noctis laughed, the sound wrecked and bitter. “No.”

Prompto’s face flushed hot as he realized how dumb that sounded. Right. Of course Noctis wasn’t okay. “Do you need anything? A – a potion?” It was stupid to ask the guy who _ made  _ the potions if he needed one, but Prompto didn’t know what else to  _ do. _

Noctis shook his head. He moved, finally, walking over to put his jacket on the chair near the bed. He glanced at Prompto. “I – shower.”  He looked away, heading for the bathroom. 

Prompto half-rose off the bed as if he was going to follow – but then Noctis slammed the door behind him, and Prompto sank back on the bed, his stomach twisting unhappily.

He’d fucked up. He’d fucked up  _ bad. _

Maybe the fact he was wearing one of Gladio’s tank tops with his Crownsguard pants was the problem? Fuck, why hadn’t he just changed back into his own clothes? Prompto got up and pulled the tank top off, shucked off his boots and socks and pulled off his pants. He wasn’t wearing his boxers, which were – somewhere in Ignis and Gladio’s room.

The royal suite technically had a guest room and a full bath, but Prompto hadn’t availed himself of either. In Noctis’s old apartment, back when they were in high school, he’d spent so much time in the guest room it was almost as familiar as his own bedroom at home. But that had ended when he was sixteen, and he and Noctis started sleeping together in Noctis’s room.

When Noctis moved back to the Citadel for security reasons, Prompto never spent a single night in the guest room.

Thinking about that made his throat tight and his eyes burn. Prompto grabbed some clothes from the walk-in closet – a sea of royal Lucian black, with Prompto’s more colorful clothes taking up a fraction of the space.

_ Princes will be princes.  _ He couldn’t even smile.

Prompto paused by the door to the bathroom on his way out. He could hear the shower running, but nothing else. He swallowed and almost knocked, but then he took himself across the suite and went into the guest room. It was as neat as Noctis’s room, but clearly from disuse, and there was a vaguely stuffy, almost stale atmosphere that said no one ever went in there. The bathroom had towels but none of Prompto’s usual stuff, which was all in the master bath. But there was enough for him to at least clean up.

It didn’t make him feel that much better, but at least it gave him something to do. He went back into the bedroom and picked up his clothes, stuffing the shirt and socks into the hamper and hanging his pants back up.

The shower was  _ still  _ running. Prompto sat back on the bed, his damp hair hanging in his face. He stared at the door to the bathroom like he could see through it, waiting for it to open. The shower went off, and Prompto’s heart rate went up, but the door remained closed.

Finally he couldn’t take it anymore. He got up and rapped on the door. “Noct? You okay in there, buddy?”

“I’m fine.”

Prompto bit his lip. He’d known Noctis way too long to believe that clipped, harsh tone was anything other than the exact  _ opposite  _ of fine. “You – uh. Want some food or something?”

“No.”

Prompto lightly banged his head on the door. “Gimme something, buddy. You’re kinda freaking me out, here.”

“Sorry.” Noctis didn’t sound sorry. “I’ll be out in a minute.” The  _ leave me alone  _ was clear.

Prompto was not going to be hurt by this. Noctis had gone through a traumatic experience, he knew what it must have cost Noctis to let Ardyn touch him, to let Ardyn  _ fuck  _ him. If just thinkin about that creep’s hands on Noct made  _ Prompto  _ mad, he could only imagine how Noctis felt.

He needed some time. Right. Prompto kept his voice light. “Sure thing.” He went into the living room and sprawled on the couch, picked up a video game controller and switched on the television more out of habit than anything.

He scrolled through the game menu, not wanting to play anything but unable to just sit there, idle, while he waited for Noctis. He heard the door to the bathroom open, but it still took another ten minutes or so for Noctis to appear.

He was dressed casually, his black hair wet and slicked back off his face. He never wore it that way, and it threw his cheekbones into sharp relief, emphasized his gorgeous blue eyes and his full mouth. Even with his expression tight and closed-off, and his eyes shadowed, he was still the most attractive person Prompto had ever laid eyes on.

Prompto tried for a smile. “Want to play a game or anything?”

Noctis was  _ staring  _ at him. The look on his face wasn’t one Prompto was used to, because it was – fuck, he looked almost  _ disgusted. _

“I need you to leave.”

The words fell down between them like a hammer. Prompto just  _ stared  _ at him. It wasn’t like Noctis didn’t need alone time. Prompto had learned over the years that sometimes people needed that kind of thing – well. People who weren’t him. But this just seemed so wrong. “Sure. I’ll – go out and take some pictures or something. Give you a couple hours. That okay?”

Noctis drew in a deep breath. “No. Don’t come back.”  

Prompto blinked. “Wait, like… _ ever _ ?”

“Yes.” Noctis’s fists were clenched. He was having trouble breathing. “I can’t – be around you, right now.”

Noctis was angry. At  _ Prompto _ . He was looking at Prompto like he was something unwanted, like he was an imposition. Prompto couldn’t breathe. “Is it –because of last night?” He could barely get the words out.

“Yes.” Noctis’s pretty blue eyes were hard. There was no hint of softness anywhere in his expression.

“Dude.” Prompto was trembling. “It’s me. Prompto. You – why do you want me to leave?”

Noctis’s face blanched. “Because I can’t handle looking at you right now.”

When Prompto joined the Crownsguard, there were a few times he wasn’t sure he was going to make it out of training. He’d been a runner since he was twelve, but that wasn’t in the same  _ league  _ as learning how to fight. Especially with Gladio, who despite the friendship they’d formed over the years, did not take it easy on him. In fact, Prompto was pretty sure he went harder on him just  _ because  _ they were friends.

He’d only been injured – really injured, beyond the usual bruises and scrapes and sore muscles – once. He’d misjudged the distance to a target and tried some fancy maneuver like he was a character in a video game instead of a person, failed, and fallen off a rope bridge on one of the training courses. Which would have been fine, but his leg tangled in the roping and when he went down, it snapped his ankle.

The pain was so unexpectedly awful that he’d cried out, his stomach roiling like he was going to throw up. He’d twisted around and tried to get free, in a panic from the pain and the fact he was trapped and hanging upside down off a fake bridge _.  _ Gladio had eventually told him to stop struggling and gently disentangled him before getting him a potion, but those few seconds had been utter agony.

And yet, somehow, Noctis looking at him and saying  _ I can’t handle looking at you right now  _ hurt a thousand times worse.

Prompto stood up, his legs shaking. He wanted to argue. He wanted to shake Noctis, tell him  _ I only did it because you asked me to,  _ because maybe that was true but Prompto  _ had  _ liked it. He’d enjoyed all the attention Ignis and Gladio had given him in bed, sprawled out between them, Ignis murmuring filthy,  _ filthy  _ things in that cultured voice while Gladio sucked him, fingered him open, then fucked him with that massive cock of his –

\--yeah. No wonder Noctis couldn’t stand to look at him. Prompto never had been very good at hiding his emotions, and if he looked happy and sexually satisfied, wearing Gladio’s  _ fucking shirt  _ of all things, when Noctis came home after letting that monster put his hands on him….

Gods. Prompto was the worst boyfriend ever. Suddenly, he couldn’t stand to  _ have  _ Noctis look at him. His eyes blurred and he nodded, running a hand through his hair and mumbling, “Yeah, okay. I – okay.” He went toward the door, thinking wildly about where he could go. He had his bunk in the barracks. He’d go there.

There was a sudden rush of anger as he thought about what was happening. Noctis was  _ throwing him out  _ of his own  _ home _ , without anything save the clothes on his back and the phone in his pocket. No uniform, no charger, no camera, no  _ shoes _ , for fuck’s sake. All because, what, he’d done what Noctis himself had asked him to do?

_ But you liked it,  _ a little voice reminded him.  _ You liked it, and you were gone all night, and why should he want you around if you can’t be here when he needs you? _

What use was he? None at all. He was a commoner who’d made friends with the prince, was milking it for a royal apartment and hot threesomes with the prince’s retainers. He was useless. He was nothing. He didn’t deserve to be here.

Overwhelmed by an intense feeling of worthlessness, Prompto stumbled toward the door and yanked the door open. Noctis didn’t try and stop him.  

Where was he going to go?

_ Maybe Ignis and Gladio -- _

_ No. You can’t go to Ignis and Gladio’s, are you kidding? You don’t deserve them, either. _

Prompto made his way to the Crownsguard barracks. The cold marble floors were cold beneath his bare feet.

***

It turned out that Prompto didn’t actually  _ have  _ a spot in the barracks anymore. Apparently his bunk and his locker had been reassigned, so if he needed one he was going to have to go and ask the Marshal.

At least Marshal Leonis was in his office. Prompto went in, stammering out his request and hoping Cor would just grant it and not ask any questions about why Prompto needed somewhere to crash.

“You need a spot in the barracks?” Cor’s light eyes were as sharp as ice shards as he studied Prompto. Prompto, who stood before him in  _ bare feet  _ of all things, not in uniform, with his eyes burning red from the tears he was fighting so hard not to shed.  “Why?”

Gods, had he been dumped  _ and  _ fired? Seriously? “Because. Um. I’m Crownsguard?”

“Are you? Sounds like you’re not real sure about that.” Cor frowned at him. “You did have a bunk and a locker, and then you were assigned to His Highness’s personal guard.”

“So that means I can’t have one?” Prompto clasped his hands behind his back, less to stand at attention and more because they were trembling. Where was he going to go? He didn’t even know where his parents  _ lived  _ anymore. And Insomnia was still partying, there was no way he’d be able to find a hotel room.

“Yes,” Cor said. “Because you were assigned an apartment.”

Oh.  _ Oh.  _ Prompto gave a low exhale. Great. An empty apartment. At least that was better than a barracks full of curious Crownsguard. Or a street corner. “I, uh. Didn’t know that. Cool. So, um. Where is it?”

Cor had a remarkable talent for staring.  _ The Immortal and the Unblinking _ . “I don’t know. You think I keep track of all that? Lani does. She won’t be back until next Monday. So you can ask her, then.”

“Oh.” Prompto’s momentary relief dwindled. Fine. As tired as he was, it wasn’t as if he’d be able to sleep anyway. He’d go out, take some pictures. Except, wait, no. He only had his phone, because his camera was back in Noctis’s rooms. Not his, not anymore.

Prompto’s head was spinning with how fast he’d literally lost everything he’d loved. He took a deep breath. “Could I get a spare uniform? And, um. An assignment to guarding something else? Like a statue, or an important doorway, or –”

“You and the prince have a fight?”

Prompto sputtered. “I –  _ what _ ?”

“Look.” Cor shrugged. “I get it. He just had to marry someone else. And you had to stand beside him while he did it. Believe me. I know how that feels, and it ain’t good.”

The last thing Prompto wanted to do was talk to Cor Leonis – his  _ boss _ and legendary badass – about his fight with Noctis. Like hell was he going to tell the Marshal  _ oh I had a threesome because Noctis asked me to, but now he can’t stand to look at me and I really fucked up everything. _

“Ifrit’s balls,” the Marshal said. “I hate when people cry in my office.”

This was officially the worst day of Prompto’s  _ life. _

“You can do it in my apartment instead. Let’s go.” Cor walked over and put a hand on Prompto’s shoulder. “It’ll be okay, kid.”

Having Cor call him  _ kid  _ was – nice, actually. Prompto tried to smile, but his eyes were filling up again. Godsdamnit. One person was nice to him, and he lost his shit. What the fuck was his life right now?

Prompto followed Cor out of his office, ducking his head and trying to get his emotions under control. He barely paid attention to where they were going, but he probably should. Especially if this was where his theoretical apartment was located.

Cor stopped in front of a door, pulled out a keycard and opened it. He waved Prompto inside.

The apartment was nowhere near as fancy as Noctis’s, of course, but it was nice. There was a comfortable living room, small kitchen, and a hallway with a couple of doors. Everything was well-worn and military-neat. There were a lot of pictures on the walls, as well as some decorations that Cor had been awarded for his years of service to the Crown.

Being in the Immortal’s apartment would be kind awesome, actually, if Prompto wasn’t trying not bawl his eyes out.

“Bathroom’s the second door on the right.” Cor went over and grabbed a beer out of the fridge. He carried it over and handed it to Prompto. “You can crash on the couch until you fix whatever this is with the prince, okay? I’d let you have the bed, but you’re a lot younger than me, and I bet your back’s a lot less fucked up than mine.”

Prompto took the beer. He didn’t really want to drink it, but he also didn’t want to say no to the Marshal’s unexpected kindness. “Thanks.”

“Look, Prompto.” Cor shoved his hands in his pockets. He looked a lot less like the competent head of the Crownsguard and more like – well. Kind of an awkward  _ dad _ , which, if Prompto wasn’t miserable, would be sort of cute. “I said I knew what you felt, because I do.” His voice was so gruff it sounded like he’d eaten gravel for breakfast. His eyes strayed toward a wall full of photographs, honing in on one in particular. “You and me, kid? We might be in their circle, but we’ll never really be one of them. And that’s not easy.”

Prompto wasn’t sure he’d ever heard Cor Leonis use so many words at once. And none of them made sense, not really. Prompto went over and looked at the photograph that had captured Cor’s attention. It was a picture of a much-younger Cor, dressed in fatigues and a beret, and a dark-haired man who looked enough like Noctis that Prompto knew it was the king. No one was smiling, but there was something about the way Cor was looking over at Regis that looked familiar.

Prompto had seen enough pictures of himself in his Crownsguard uniform with Noct over the years, where Noct was doing important Prince Things and Prompto was on duty, to recognize that look when he saw it.

_ Well. That was always the rumor, wasn’t it? That Cor had a thing for the King, before he married the Queen? _

But wasn’t – Clarus and Regis – Noctis had said that they were a thing, and even Noct’s  _ mom  _ had known about them. Did that mean Cor was just pining for Regis, or that there’d been something between them at one point?

Nope. There wasn’t enough beer in the world to make Prompto ask that question. He just gave a grateful smile to Cor and lifted his beer. “Yeah. It sucks.”

Cor nodded. He looked vaguely discomforted. Embarrassed maybe, but he clapped Prompto on the shoulder again and squeezed. “I have to work a few more hours. But you can stay here. And if you leave, for Shiva’s sake, kid. Borrow some of my boots.”

Yeah. ‘Cause Prompto could fill  _ those  _ shoes. He would have laughed if he didn’t feel so miserable. “Thanks. But I  - don’t really have anywhere to go.” 

“Then stay here. We’ll figure it out.” Cor gave him another long look. “I – I’m sorry. For whatever happened.”

Prompto just nodded, fiddling with the label on his Galdin Quay Pale Ale. The Marshal knew microbrews. Who knew?

When Cor was gone, Prompto sat on the couch with his mostly untouched beer, twirling the bottle between his fingers. Finally he put it on the table. The last thing he wanted to do was to spill it on the Marshal’s couch.

It was a good thing that he put the beer away, because when his phone buzzed he would have dropped it in his haste to get to his pocket. He felt a crushing sense of disappointment when he saw the message he’d received wasn’t from Noctis.

It was from Luna.

_ How is Noctis? He won’t answer his phone and I don’t want to interrupt the two of you by stopping by, but I’m worried. _

Prompto stared at the message. He was at a loss for what to say. He wanted to pour the whole sordid story out in text message, but he knew he shouldn’t. The last thing he needed to do, the last thing he  _ wanted  _ to do, was worry Lady Luna with his personal problems.

He thought a minute, then sent back,  _ he wants to be alone. _

Her reply came a few seconds later.

_ I imagine. I’m glad you’re with him :) Please tell him I’d like to see him when he’s up for visitors. _

Prompto bit his lip. He should send back something like  _ will do _ and leave it at that. That was what he was going to do. Yes. Definitely.

His fingers typed out, _ I can’t he told me to get out and not come back. Ever. _

He sent it before he could stop himself.

The second he saw the words pop up on the screen, he could have kicked himself for being so dramatic.  

Luna’s reply was immediate.

_ Where are you? _

He shouldn’t tell her. He should tell her he was just kidding, that he wasn’t anywhere, that nothing mattered and it was all fine. But that was a lie. And he didn’t want to compound his terrible day by lying to the Oracle. Besides, Luna was his friend, and Prompto really needed one of those right about now.

His fingers were trembling as he typed his reply.

_ Cor’s apartment. The Crownsguard Marshal. I didn’t know where else to go. _

Her reply buzzed a few seconds later.  _ Sit tight. I’ll be right there. It’ll be okay, Prompto. _

He gave a sad little laugh and leaned back against the couch. His eyes were burning, but he knew if he broke down and started crying now, he wouldn’t stop. So he tried to calm himself down and wondered how Luna even knew where the Marshal’s apartment  _ was _ .

Apparently she did, because not ten minutes later there was a knock on the door. Prompto pushed himself up and went to answer it.

Luna was standing there, looking beautiful and very, very worried. She took one look at him and made a soft sound, rushing in and wrapping her arms around him. “Oh, Prompto. What  _ happened _ ?”

He sniffled. “I think Noctis broke up with me.” Saying it out loud was enough to finally break him. Prompto buried his face in her shoulder and sobbed.

***

Eventually, Luna got the door closed and maneuvered them both to the couch.

Prompto lay across it with his head in her lap, her fingers gently carding through his hair. She was doing something, using her powers, because wave after wave of healing magic was washing through him. It helped some. He didn’t think even the Oracle could heal a broken heart.

When he could breathe again, he sat up and wiped his hand over his face. He probably looked a mess. At least her magic made his nose clear so he could breathe, and he wasn’t getting snot all over her. “Um. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to bother you.”

“It’s all right.” Her smile was sweet. She was dressed as casually as he’d ever seen her, in a pair of pants that looked suspiciously like they might belong to a certain Kingsglaive and a white tank top. She looked damn good, dressed more for battle than a party. He wished he wasn’t so miserable so he couldn’t appreciate it. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

He really didn’t, but he sort of had to, didn’t he? Considering the dramatic text message and the fact he’d just cried all over her. “Um. I – so. I maybe kinda. Had a threesome with Ignis and Gladio last night. While Noct was with Ardyn.”

Her eyes went wide. “You – I’m sorry, you did what?”

He realized how that sounded and added quickly, “Noct asked me to.”

“Noctis asked you to have a threesome with Gladio and Ignis on his wedding night?”

It was kind of weird to hear the Oracle and a princess use the word  _ threesome _ , but the only good thing about today being a giant clusterfuck was that he was already about as shell-shocked as he could be. “Yeah. He – sometimes we talk about it. He likes the idea of me with other people. He knew he needed the, ah. Incentive, so he could be with Ardyn.”

“Oh. I see.” Luna was blushing, which only made her look prettier. “So, I’m assuming you did as he asked?”

Prompto nodded miserably. “Yeah. And this morning, when he got back…Luna. He was so disgusted with me.” Great. Turned out he could still cry, wonderful. “He told me to go and not come back. And that he – he couldn’t even  _ look  _ at me.”

“What?” Luna’s eyes narrowed. “Why on earth would he be mad at you for doing what he’d asked?”

Prompto shrugged, staring down at his hands. “Maybe I wasn’t supposed to spend all night there. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to like it. I don’t know.”

Luna took his hand in hers and squeezed, gently. “Prompto. Do you really think he didn’t want you to  _ like  _ it?”

He hadn’t thought so, but now he wasn’t sure about anything. He said as much.

“Do  _ you,  _ perhaps, feel guilty that you liked it?” Luna asked, still gently. “And do you think that’s part of what’s happening, here?”

Probably, but still, Noctis  _ had  _ told him to leave. He shrugged. “It’s just that…my life is about Noctis, you know? Personally, and professionally. Watching him marrying Ardyn was hard. Even though I know why he did it, and that he didn’t  _ want  _ to, that didn’t make it any easier. I – I guess I felt –” He couldn’t even say it. It just seemed so ungrateful.

Luna, however, didn’t seem to have a problem with it.  “You were jealous.”

He gave a shameful nod. “Him marrying Ardyn, it  _ saved the world _ , Luna. Literally! How could I be so selfish as to feel that way?”

“Goodness, Prompto. It was hard for  _ me  _ to see him marry Ardyn, and I care for him as a dear friend and a brother. I can’t even imagine how  _ you  _ must have felt, knowing how deeply you love him.”  

Prompto squeezed her hand in thanks. “But last night was supposed to be for him, not me. And I…made it about me. I wanted it to be about me. When I was with them.”

“You liked the attention,” she guessed. “There’s nothing wrong with that. And I really don’t think he wanted you to hate that, so…there must be something else bothering him. But what he said to you, it was needlessly cruel and he should apologize.” She stood up and held her hand out. “Come along.”

“Wait, what? Where are we going?” He let her pull him up – it was hard  _ not  _ to, she had a surprising amount of strength in that slender frame – but he tried to keep her from dragging him to the door to no avail.

“To talk to Noctis, of course.” Luna’s face was set and determined. “The longer you let this fester between you, the harder it will be to deal with.”

“No. I – I can’t go back, he said he doesn’t  _ want  _ me—” He tried pulling his hand free, but…yeah, no, wasn’t happening. “Are you really a sparkleclaw? Damn, Luna.”

“I’ve been doing some strength training.” Her smile turned sly. “Threesomes require a lot of endurance, don’t they?”

Prompto blushed to the root of his hairline, but he smiled his first real smile of the day. “Oh, yeah. I forgot about you and your Glaives.” He whistled and gave her finger-guns, though they were decidedly less exuberant than usual. “Get it, girl.”

“Oh, I am.” She winked, then her expression went serious. “I think whatever is bothering Noctis, it has more to do with whose bed  _ he  _ spent the night in. And that means I’m worried about him, too.”  

Okay, looking back, maybe he shouldn’t have just left without asking Noctis why he would say something like that. But it didn’t make following her through the labyrinthine corridors of the Citadel any easier, because what if she was wrong? What if he had to hear Noctis say  _ I can’t stand to look at you  _ again? What if Noctis said something  _ worse?  _ __

When they arrived back at Noctis’s rooms, Luna banged on the door with her fist. “Noctis Lucis Caelum,” she shouted. “You open this door at once, or I shall summon your  _ father. _ ”

This was not the kind of peacekeeping adventure Prompto had unwillingly been dragged into. “Luna!” he hissed, “You can’t do that!”

“Watch me,” she said.

The door opened. Noctis stood there, looking about as miserable as Prompto felt. Noctis’s eyes were red, and his hair had dried so ridiculously that if it were any other moment, Prompto would point and laugh at it.  

Noctis didn’t look at him. He just glanced at Luna, and then stared resolutely down at the floor. “I said I wanted to be alone.”

“Oh, I know what you said.” Luna crossed her arms. “I will talk about this in the hallway if you don’t let us in. Don’t think I won’t, Noctis.”

Noctis just turned and stalked back into his apartments. Luna marched in after him like she was going to war. Prompto followed a little less insistently and closed the door behind him as quietly as possible. His heart beat unpleasantly fast. He was beginning to wish he’d stayed at Cor’s.

Luna was a force of  _ nature. _

“I have two questions,” Luna said, hands on her hips. “And you’re going to answer them. Honestly.”

Noctis turned away to stare out of the window. His shoulders were tense. “Fine.”

Luna actually stuck her tongue out at his back. They really  _ were  _ like siblings. “First. Did you tell Prompto you wanted him to have a threesome with Ignis and Gladio last night?”

Apparently he could still blush hearing the Oracle reference his sex life. Noctis didn’t turn around, but his shoulders relocated somewhere up around his ears. He nodded without speaking.

“And are you angry at him for doing what you asked?”

Noctis turned around, blinking. He looked surprised, like he couldn’t imagine why Prompto would think that. “What? No way. No. Not at all.”

Well, now  _ Prompto  _ wanted to stick his tongue out at him. He exchanged a confused look with Luna. What was going on, then? “Dude. Why did you – you told me to get out. That you couldn’t  _ look  _ at me. If it wasn’t ‘cause you were mad at me for – for that threesome, then why?”

Noctis gave another one of those harsh laughs. “Because I made you do something you didn’t want to do, and in the end? It didn’t even matter.”

Luna frowned. “Why didn’t it matter? Were you unable to consummate the marriage?”

“Oh, it was consummated.” Noctis’s voice was grim. He was still staring out of the window.

Luna took a cautious step forward. She put a hand on Noctis’s shoulder. “Then…can you help me understand the problem?”

Noctis’s expression turned into something rageful and angry. There were actual tears on his face -- hell, he was so angry he was crying. “You want to know what the problem is? Okay. How’s this – the problem isn’t that I consummated the marriage. The problem is that  _ I liked it _ .”

Prompto didn’t know what to say to that. In the strictest sense, he’d at least known Noctis would, at the very least, feel some sort of pleasure just because of the whole mechanics of the thing. But this sounded like it was a lot more than that. He glanced at Luna, who was biting her lip and looking pensive. “Dude,” he said, finally, when it was clear Noctis wasn’t going to elaborate. “What  _ happened _ ?”

“He told me to fuck him like I wanted to kill him,” Noctis said, bluntly. “And I did. More than once. I didn’t think about you, I didn’t think about – what I’d  _ made  _ you do for me, and how – how can I even  _ look  _ at you, Prompto? How can I touch you, ever again, knowing what kind of fucked up person I am? How--” Noctis’s face crumbled. “How can you even stand to be  _ near _ me, after that?”

“How could you think I wouldn’t want to be?” It made more sense, now, but Prompto’s heart still hurt. “Noct, did you really think  _ I’d  _ be disgusted with  _ you _ ?”

“I don’t see how you couldn’t be.” Noctis scrubbed his hands over his face. “I betrayed you, didn’t I?”

Well, at least Prompto wasn’t the only one being dramatic. “Um. No? Dude. I knew you had to…uh. You know.”

“Fuck Ardyn,” Noctis said flatly. “And yeah. I did have to. But I didn’t have to fucking  _ like  _ it. I don’t know what’s wrong with me –” he made a sound like a choked sob, face buried in his hands.

“I think I might be able to help you understand,” Luna said, rubbing a comforting hand over Noctis’s back. “Noctis, you’ve said before that you only feel sexual attraction to people you feel an intense emotional connection with, yes?”

Noctis nodded, dropping his hands. “Yeah. And it’s only ever been Prompto.”  

Fuck it. Prompto crossed over and stood beside Noctis, taking his hand. Noctis squeezed it so tightly that it made something loosen in Prompto’s chest.

“And that’s because you love him. And love is a very intense feeling, but…Noctis. You realize you also have  _ very intense feelings  _ for Ardyn, too, yes?” Luna said, like that was obvious.

“What? The fuck I do,” Noctis snapped. “I don’t – I don’t even  _ like  _ Ardyn!”

“Noctis, do you know what the opposite of love is?”

“Yeah,” Noctis snapped. “Hate.”

“No,” Luna said, gently. “It isn’t. Love is an intensity of feeling, yes? The opposite of that would be a  _ lack  _ of such feeling. That isn’t what you feel toward Ardyn at all. Hate is the darker side of love, and it’s certainly not lacking in intensity.”

“But people don’t want to fuck people they hate,” Noctis protested, but he was looking at Luna with an edge of hopefulness beneath his obvious misery. Like he wanted so very badly to believe her.

Luna’s eyebrows raised. “You should ask Nyx about that, sometime. It’s certainly not uncommon.”

“All right.  _ I  _ don’t fuck people I hate.” Noctis blanched. “Except apparently I do. Did.” 

“I think you needed to do something, and the intensity of your feelings for Ardyn – whatever they may be – helped you to do it.” Luna smiled softly at Noctis. “And I understand that it wasn’t something you wanted to enjoy. But it is done, and you have fulfilled the contract. Now I think you can turn your attention from that darker feeling, to one that brings you happiness.” She gave Prompto a significant look.

Noctis sighed. “I – yeah. You’re right.” His bloodshot eyes met Prompto’s. “I’m so sorry. So sorry. I didn’t want you to leave. I just…didn’t think I deserved to have you stay.”

“Might want to have tried leading with that, then,” Prompto said, and he could hear that he was angry but he couldn’t help it. This whole miserable day could have been avoided, if not for Noctis’s attempts and martyrdom – and, fine. Prompto’s own insecurities. He tried a smile. “We fucked this one up, huh.”

“Yeah,” Noctis said. “We sure did.”

“I think perhaps the rest of this conversation should be between the two of you,” Luna murmured. “Would you like me to make you both some tea before I go?”

They both shook their heads. Luna crossed over to Noctis. She took his face in his hands. “Remember what I told you, Noctis. Prompto is your light. Don’t let Ardyn’s darkness drown it, or keep you from seeking it out when you need it.” With a fond smile, she kissed his forehead. There was a warm glow of magic light.

“Thanks, Luna.” Noctis gave her a hug.

“Get some sleep. We’ll talk when you’re ready.” She kissed his forehead again, then moved over to give Prompto a hug, too.

“I’m glad you were able to talk to me,” she said. “I know that wasn’t easy.”

Prompto’s smile was a lot less strained. “You’re pretty easy to talk to.” With a final hug, she bid them both goodbye and headed for the door.

When Luna was gone, Prompto and Noctis stared at each other. They both smiled, tired and sheepish, both aware there was a lot left still that they needed to say.  

“Um.” Prompto took a deep breath. “Can I – can I say something?”

“Yeah. Of course.” Noctis went and sat on the couch, elbows resting on his knees, looking up at him expectantly. He looked tired. But still so beautiful, it made Prompto’s throat tight. Maybe he should just –

_ No. Say what you need to say. Remember what Luna said, and don’t let it fester. _

“So. I get it that this wasn’t really about me, but…it was hard not to take it that way. You told me to  _ leave,  _ Noct. And you told me you couldn’t  _ look at  _ me.” Prompto’s voice went all choked. “I just. Hearing that, dude, it like. Broke my fucking heart, you know?”  

“Gods, Prom,” Noctis murmured, his voice caught. “I – I’m so sorry. I know it doesn’t really help to hear that.”

“Nah. It does, sure.” Prompto went and sat next to him. “You always say you like me ‘cause I don’t look at you and see only a prince. But Noct? You – you were pretty much the first person who ever saw  _ me  _ at all. As – as anything.”

There was a long moment of silence. And then Noctis made and sound and put his face in his hands. His shoulders shook, but the noise he made was half-sob, half-laugh. “Now I feel even  _ worse _ .”

Prompto patted him on the shoulder. “You deserved it.” He slid his fingers into Noctis’s hair. “Hey. Look at me? I really need to get this out.”

Noctis dropped his hands and looked up at him. “Sure. Anything.”

“It was – kinda my fault, too. I should have just called you out on it. Fought with you. I guess I just felt too insecure, but…I won’t do that again.” Prompto exhaled slowly. “I shouldn’t have run away.”

“You won’t have to,” Noctis vowed, hands on Prompto’s shoulders. “I’ll never say anything like that again. I promise. And I told you to go, and I know I shouldn’t have.”

“And I’m never gonna be disgusted with you, okay? Even if you  _ were  _ in love with Ardyn – uh. I might be  _ concerned  _ and make you drink, like, sixteen remedies in a row but I’d never be disgusted.”

“ _ I  _ would be. Fuck the remedies, I’d drink sixteen  _ poisons _ if that ever happened.” Noctis made a face. “Are we okay? I really  _ am  _ sorry. You’re right about all of it. I should have given you more credit and I shouldn’t have pushed you away.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry I just left.” Prompto sighed and scooted closer, putting his head on Noctis’s shoulder. “Man. Today  _ sucked. _ ”

Noctis snorted. Then he laughed, his fingers twining in Prompto’s hair. “Gods, yeah. Hey, can we –is it okay if we –”

Prompto smiled. He knew where this was going. “Yes, Noct. We can take a nap.”

***

They shucked their clothes and climbed into the bed, and Noctis wrapped himself around Prompto from behind, face pressed against the back of Prompto’s neck and his arm wrapped tight around Prompto’s middle.

Prompto managed to enjoy it for a few minutes before sleep claimed him, too. Gods knew they both needed the rest.

It was dark out when Prompto woke up. He turned over and saw Noct sprawled on his back, one arm flung up over his eyes, chest rising and falling easily. He was still asleep.

Prompto smiled and reached for his phone. His eyes widened – he had four missed calls and one text message. They were all from Cor. No voicemails, but one text message that just read  _ let me know you’re not dead. _

“Aw,” Prompto said, smiling. “You care.” He sent back a message saying he was fine, and then thanked Cor for his help and for the beer.

It was weird to think the Marshal was checking up on him. But kinda nice, too.

“Tmsit?”

Prompto glanced over to see Noctis blinking sleepy blue eyes at him. He translated the Noct-speak for  _ what time is it?  _ and said, “Seven-thirty.” His stomach grumbled. “You hungry?”

“Yeah, actually. Wanna order something?” Noctis reached out and ran his fingers over the jut of Prompto’s collarbones. “I’d rather not get out of bed, but I don’t think I’ve eaten since breakfast with my dad yesterday.”

Prompto, who had made it through the last twenty-four hours on nothing but rum, sex and misery, was definitely down for dinner. He made a pleased sound at the caress – he loved when Noct was like this, touching Prompto just because he wanted to put his hands on him – and leaned over to kiss Noct. “Cool. You stay there looking sleepy and gorgeous, and I’ll be the put-upon commoner boyfriend and order dinner that you’ll pay for.”

Noctis snorted a laugh, but his expression went thoughtful as Prompto jumped out of bed and pulled on a pair of pants and one of Noctis’s old t-shirts. “How do you do that?”

“Dress myself? Easy, dude. Your head goes through the big hole, here—”

“Ha, ha.” Noctis settled his hands behind his head. “You get cheerful so fast. I mean. Sometimes you’re just  _ pretending  _ but right now I can tell you’re not.”

Noct always had been able to tell when Prompto’s cheerfulness was a front, and when it wasn’t. He shrugged. “Dunno, dude. I guess…we talked about something that was a problem. Luna’s right. It’s a good idea to do that.” He smiled at Noctis. “And then I had a nap with my hot boyfriend who apologized  _ and  _ is gonna buy dinner.”

“Tch. Stop that. Your hot boyfriend, who’s also an idiot.”

“Yup. Just means you’re not perfect, like the rest of us mere mortals.” Prompto watched as Noctis stretched, arching up off the bed and yawning. His mouth went dry.

“Order some dinner,” Noctis said, with a little smirk. “I need energy for the make-up sex we’re gonna have.”  

“Damn right, you do. What do you want?” Prompto laughed. “I’m good with anything but Galahdian. Had a little too much of their rum last night.” He winced.

Noctis reached for his phone and gave a careless wave of his hand. “Order whatever you want. You know what I like.”

That was true.  

Feeling better than he had in hours, Prompto wandered into the living room to make the phone call. He’d get really distracted if he stood there watching Noctis loll around in bed, even if all he was doing was playing  _ King’s Knight.  _

Unfortunately, ordering something for dinner wasn’t as easy as making a phone call. Insomnia was still celebrating, and that meant just about nobody was cooking in. One place Prompto tried, there was a two hour wait. A few other places didn’t even answer the phone. One did, but the woman on the other end just said, “Try somewhere else,” before hanging up on him.

His favorite pizza place was a  _ three hour wait _ . “What if I said it was a delivery for the Citadel?” Prompto cajoled sweetly. “Could it be quicker?”

“Honey, it could be for Prince Noctis himself and it’d still be three hours.”

Well, there went that idea. He glanced up as Noctis wandered out of the bedroom. “So, slight problem. Everyone’s busy since it’s party town out there, and not even  _ you _ can get a pizza before, like, eleven pm. Literally, they used your name and everything.”

“Ah.” Noctis shrugged, appearing unperturbed. “Call Iggy. See if he can send up something.”

Prompto wasn’t sure he wanted to bother Ignis, but he knew there was hot tea, popcorn, and maybe a stray Cup Noodle in the kitchen – and that’s if they were lucky. He pulled up Ignis’s contact information.

“Prompto,” Ignis said, his voice calm, when he answered. “I do hope all is well?”

“Yeah.” Prompto didn’t want to go into specifics. Not when things had finally settled down. “Noct and I were trying to find something to eat. I don’t mean to bother you, but, uh. Every place is busy, so….”

“Say nothing further,” Ignis said smoothly. “I’ve some green curry and some of that chickatrice rice that Noct likes. I’ll bring it up if you like.”

“Thanks.” Prompto bit his lip. “And, for. Um. Last night. You and Gladio both.”

“It was our pleasure,” Ignis purred, in the voice he’d used last night in bed and boy, had he ever  _ used  _ it. Iggy was a talker during sex. Just hearing it in his ear made Prompto shiver.

“Uh, yeah,” Prompto squeaked, feeling himself turn red. He slid a look at Noctis, who was watching him with a little half-smile on his face. “Mine, too. Definitely.”

“And how is His Highness?”

The switch from Iggy’s sex voice to his advisor one gave him whiplash. “Um. Good, I think? We had a nap. But everything…is good. Finished. Um. You know.”

“Tell him Ardyn and I fucked, and to hurry up with dinner because I’m starving,” said Noctis. He sounded amused. And like a huge brat. So basically back to normal, then.

“Uh,” Prompto stammered. He wasn’t sure he wanted to repeat that.

On the phone, Ignis sighed. “No need to repeat it. I heard him just fine.” A pause. “Would my bringing dinner by be welcome, or an intrusion? Please let me know. If it’s an issue, I’ll send it up with someone else.”

“And tell him yes, he can come check on me if he wants,” Noctis said, before Prompto could even relay that question.

“Sure, Iggy. Come on up.” Prompto ended the call and slid his phone into his pocket.

Noctis walked over, grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him in for a kiss. “If I wasn’t so hungry, do you know what we’d be doing right now?” He didn’t want for Prompto to answer. “We’d be in bed, and you’d be telling me  _ all  _ about that threesome.”

“Hey. We  _ were  _ in bed. Someone wanted a nap.” Prompto grinned. “As usual.”

“Smart ass.”

“But a great one, amirite?” Prompto laughed, Noctis kissed him again, and they spent the rest of the time waiting for Ignis to show up making out in the kitchen.

Ignis arrived within thirty minutes, making him a way better option than all the restaurants Prompto had attempted to order from. He didn’t stay long, just gave Noctis a once-over, made a little “hmm” noise and nodded his head. “All is well with you, then, Your Highness?”

“It’s over,” Noctis said, his voice going flat. “And I – can we talk about it later, Specs? I’m starving. And it’s kinda been a day. But I did what I was supposed to do.”

“Of course. I knew that you would. But my concern is only if  _ you  _ are all right, Noctis.” He reached out and smoothed Noctis’s hair back. “The rest may certainly wait. Though I am admittedly intrigued by what it meant that Ardyn was able to use an armiger.”

Oh. Right. Prompto had been so caught up in his own internal misery, he’d kinda forgotten about the whole  _ Ardyn can use an armiger and has weird glowing red magic  _ thing.

“Not really a surprise. He’s part of the family.” Noctis smiled grimly. “I’m supposed to get the whole story from him later. But I really, really don’t want to talk about Ardyn right now. I need a night not to think about him.”

Ignis bowed. “Of course, Your Highness. That is more than reasonable, given the circumstances. Enjoy your dinner. And thank you for entrusting Prompto to Gladio and I. I do hope we performed as you wish.”

“Iggy,” Prompto groaned. “Really?”

“Oh, I plan on finding out. I’ll put it in my report.” Noctis’s expression eased into a smirk.

“I’d look forward to reading them, if I believed you would actually complete a report that wasn’t mandatory.” Ignis bowed. “I am happy to prepare one with all the pertinent information, if you like.” His voice was cool and collected, but there was a little smirk on his face.

Damn. Iggy was  _ evil.  _

“Mmm! Doesn’t this smell good!” Prompto said, loudly. “Better eat it before it gets cold! Bye, Iggy!”

“Yes. Good evening to you both. But as I did take those dishes directly out of the fridge, you’ll likely want to heat them up first.” With a laugh, Ignis left them alone.

They warmed up the food and ate it on the couch, with a movie on they were barely watching. Prompto was mostly concentrating on shoveling as much green curry in his mouth as he could. Damn, he was  _ starving. _

They did the dishes in companionable silence afterward. When the last dish was dried and put away, Noctis backed him up against the wall of the kitchen and went directly to kissing his neck, which was an immediate way to make Prompto melt into a puddle.

“Wanna show you that I meant it. When I said it was hot, thinking about you with Ignis and Gladio.” Noctis glanced at him. His mouth was wet, his eyes all blurry-blue. Gods, he was so hot it wasn’t  _ fair.  _ “But, um. If you don’t want to tell me, or if you’re still mad, it’s okay.”

“Dude. It’s _ me _ . I’m not mad.” He rested his hands on Noctis’s hips. “But if I was, you being hot is a good way to make it up to me.” He leaned in, kissing Noctis soundly. “We’re good. But are you sure you want this, after last night?”

“Yeah. It’ll help.” Noctis exhaled slowly. “Believe me. Being with you always does.”

“Sweet-talker. C’mon, let’s go so I can tell you how I got worked over by our friends and get you all hot and bothered.” Prompto grinned at the look that got him. “’Cause you’re gonna  _ really  _ like hearing about it. Believe me.”

“Then let’s go.” Noctis kissed him again, and then took his hand and pulled him to the bedroom.

***

“So,” Prompto said, naked and reclining back on the bed. “What, um. What do you want to hear about?”

Noctis was reclining back on the bed next to him, dressed in only his black briefs, already half-hard from the few minutes they’d spent lazily making out. “All of it,” he said, voice rough. He rubbed a hand over his cock. “Wanna hear how they wrecked you.”

“They did.” Prompto settled back, eyes on Noctis’s hand. He loved watching Noctis touch himself. “Iggy, man. He’s  _ chatty _ .”

“Not surprised.” Noctis gave a warm laugh that made all of Prompto’s insides go fizzy. “Bet he’s bossy, too.”

“So bossy.” Prompto smiled. “Not just with me. With Gladio, too. And Gladio, well. Wow. He’s, uh. Appropriately Gladio-sized. If you know what I mean.” He waggled his eyebrows.  

Noctis’s grin was slow and hot. “You liked that, I bet. Know how much you like those dildos that look like they’re modeled after porn stars.”

That was true. Prompto did indeed like those. “Always up for a challenge, buddy. You know me.”

“Yeah. I do.” Noctis studied him. “Tell me what they did.”

“Well. Um. First, we kinda got drunk –”

Noctis made a buzzer sound and mimicked using a game controller. “Fast-forward past the cut-scenes to the action, Prom.”

“You’re so impatient.” Prompto laughed. “They took my clothes off. Made me lay down on the bed. In the middle. Uh, between the two of them.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Prompto let himself remember it. “They, uh. Touched me. Told me I was hot.” He flushed in remembered pleasure. “I tried closing my eyes, but Ignis wouldn’t let me. Said he wanted me to see how much they liked having me there.”

“Mmm.” Noctis’s hand rubbed harder over his cock through his underwear. “I bet they did. I know how good you look, naked and hard and wanting it.”

Prompto was watching Noctis’s hand with rapt attention. “It was kinda weird,” he admitted. “Being there. With them. I wished you were there, watching us. Doing – what you’re doing now.” Prompto sucked in a breath. “I thought about you, sitting in this chair that’s across from the bed. Like you were – the king. On your throne. Telling us how to perform for you.”

“Fuck, Prom.” Noctis’s head went back and his hand moved with a little more pressure over his now fully hard cock. “I would. And I would have told them how to touch you, just like you like it. How to fucking tease you. Mmm.”

“They did touch me. Everywhere.” Prompto licked his lips, his own cock stirring at both the memory and the way Noctis was obviously so into hearing about it. “So many hands on me. It was crazy. But good. It was good. I missed you, but –”

“Prompto.” Noctis was using the royal-voice, the one that made Prompto hard and made him  _ obey.  _ “I know you would have liked showing off for me. And I know I wasn’t there, and you’re worried about it. Don’t be. Show off for me  _ now _ , okay?”

“Yeah,” Prompto breathed. “Okay.”

“Is that how you answer your prince when he gives you an order?”

Oh, fuck. Whenever Noct went into full  _ I’m your liege and you will do what I say  _ voice, Prompto went fucking  _ wild.  _ Noct didn’t do it often – they both liked that they had a certain equality in their relationship, in bed if nowhere else – but when he did? Yeah. Prompto fucking  _ loved  _ it.

“Yes, Your Highness.” Prompto shivered at the look of approval that earned him. “Ignis asked what I wanted. I said I wanted to see them. Together. It was so hot, Noct. They kissed, and damn. They looked good.”

“Yeah. I’ve seen it a few times. When I’ve interrupted them.” Noctis’s laugh was low and aroused.

“Ignis – he said he wanted me to suck Gladio’s cock. To do it like I did for you. And Gladio, he stripped. Real slow. Made a show out of it.”

“I bet.” Noctis slipped a hand under his briefs. Prompto was momentarily distracted by the sight of the fabric pulling as Noctis stroked himself. “Did I tell you to stop talking?”

“N-no. Your Highness. So, um. Gladio straddled me on the bed and fed me his cock.”

“You take it deep?” Noctis asked, staring at him from half-lidded eyes. “You better.”

“Yeah. Only one thing to do with a monster cock like that.” Prompto grinned, reaching down to rub his hand over his own erection. “Take it deep until you choke. So that’s what I did.”

“Fuck,” Noctis breathed out, slow. “Hey. Did you ask if you could do that? Touch yourself?”

“Nope,” Prompto said, grinning, not slowing his hand. “Should I?”

“You know it. Ask me.”

“Can I touch myself? While I tell you?” Prompto fucking  _ loved  _ Noctis like this. “Please, Your Highness.”

“Yeah. But you don’t get to come.” Noctis smiled darkly at him, a vision spread out on the black silk sheets of his bed. “Did he like it? Did you do it wet and messy, like you do it for me?”

“Hell, yeah.” Prompto knew that his permission to touch himself would be revoked, as soon as Noctis thought he was getting close. So he took himself in hand, stroking just like he liked, with a little twist of his wrist on the upstroke and swiping his thumb over the head. He writhed a bit as he did so, legs twitching, all restless and turned on. “I took his cock down my throat, choked and did it as messy as I could. Ignis asked if you liked it that way. I said you did.”

“That’s right,” Noctis murmured, pushing his briefs down to free his cock. “And did he just watch? While you sucked Gladio?”

“Yeah. At first. Then he got on the bed. Started touching me. Just – lightly. Two fingers, like this.” Prompto showed him, stroking two fingers up the rigid length of his erection. “I guess I made some noise. They liked it.”

“Bet you wanted his fingers somewhere else,” Noctis murmured. “Put yours in your mouth. Get them wet.”

Fuck.  _ Fuck.  _ Prompto pulled his hand off his dick, sucking his own fingers for all he was worth.

“Yeah. That’s it. Just like that.” Noct’s voice was all breathy and aroused, his hand tight on his cock while he watched Prompto suck his fingers.

Prompto did it as showy as he possibly could, using a lot of tongue. Eventually he pulled his fingers free. “While I sucked Gladio, Ignis – he put his fingers in my mouth, too. So I had Gladio’s huge cock and Iggy’s fingers, and you  _ know  _ Iggy’s got. Fuck. Great hands.”

“Oh,  _ fuck _ , that’s so hot.” Noctis pulled his hand off his cock, eyes glittering. “Did you choke on them both? Specs’s fingers, and Gladio’s cock?”

“Fuck yeah,” Prompto murmured. “And then Ignis, when his fingers were wet. He – pulled them out. Then he kissed Gladio, told him how he was going to fuck me with his fingers and make me fucking crazy for it.”

“And did he?”

“Oh, yeah.” Prompto inhaled sharply. “He slid his fingers between my legs. Played with me. Teased my hole while – while I kept choking on Gladio’s cock. Gladio pulled out, made me suck on the head while Ignis used his fingers.”

“ _ Gods,  _ yeah.” Noctis was fisting himself hard now. “How did it feel?”

“Amazing, dude. But it was a lot. Overwhelming. Ignis hit me perfect with two fingers, right off the bat.” Prompto’s voice was all rough, his cock wet with pre-come. “I made so much noise.”

“You do love being fingered,” Noctis said, panting. His hips were moving, pushing up into his hand working over his cock. “Do it right now. Show me how he did it.”

Prompto wasn’t even sure he could, but he tried. He slipped his fingers inside himself, wincing a bit at the burn – somehow, it wasn’t quite as easy as it was when he was distracted by Gladio’s cock in his mouth, and he  _ was  _ still a little sore from last night. He slid a sly smile over at Noctis, legs spread wantonly as he started fucking himself. “Wanna put your dick in my mouth while I do it?”

“Gods, yeah.” Noctis moved, fast, straddling him just like Gladio had last night. He guided his cock into Prompto’s mouth, open and waiting. “Take it. Choke on it, yeah, that’s it – get it nice and wet, like you did when it was Gladio.”

Prompto did so, licking and sucking, almost forcing Noctis to fuck his throat while he used his fingers and tried to hit the same spot Ignis had. He wasn’t quite as successful but he gave it his best shot, as much as he could while lying on his back and trying to reach between his own legs. 

Noctis pulled out and sat back on his heels, breathing hard. “Don’t wanna come, yet. Except I do. All over your fucking gorgeous face, Prom.”

Prompto  _ moaned.  _ “Want your cock.  _ Please. _ ”

“Keep talking,” Noctis all but growled, grabbing his cock at the base. “Tell me what happened next.”

“They switched. Gladio – he put his fingers where Ignis’s were. But Ignis didn’t let me suck him. Said he wanted me to do it while Gladio fucked me from behind. So they grabbed me. Kissed me a lot, kissed each other. Got me on my hands and knees, Iggy in front of me and Gladio behind.” Prompto stilled his fingers. He was so turned on, he was worried he might come just from his own fingers buried inside himself, cock untouched. “So close, Noct.”

“Too bad.” Noctis grabbed Prompto’s chin with his free hand, forcing Prompto to look at him. “Wanna hear more.”

“I – did it. Got on my hands and knees, just like they wanted. They told me how good I was. How hot.”

“I bet you looked so good. Fucking panting for it, for their cocks. Mm.” Noctis’s head went back, stroking himself. “I could come just thinking about it.”

“Me, too,” Prompto said, very seriously. “Just from watching  _ you  _ think about it. Gods, Noct. Fuck me, please.”

Noctis flailed around, completely ungraceful in a way he almost never was as he tried to get the lube out of his armiger.

“You could just let me suck you again,” Prompto said, all but begging, now. “It’ll get you ready to fuck me.”

Noctis shook his head, finally managing to get his fingers slick. “I’ll come if you do that. As it is, this isn’t gonna be a very long ride.” He grabbed Prompto’s ankles and pulled, resting Prompto’s calves on his shoulders. “Besides. Want you to keep talking.”

Prompto sucked in a breath as he felt Noctis press his cock against his hole, easing in. He arched up, wanting  _ more  _ and  _ faster  _ and  _ now.  _ “Gladio fucked me from behind. It – it shoved me forward, on Ignis’s dick. Ignis – ah, Gods,  _ yes  _ – Ignis would choke me with his dick. He’s not as thick as Gladio, but –  _ mmm _ , yeah, more, do it harder, c’mon – he’s long. Hit the back of my throat every time Gladio shoved his cock in me –”

“Gods, yeah, fuck, so hot,” Noctis panted, settling on his knees, staring with hot eyes down at Prompto as he started to fuck him. “Did – did Specs tell you how good you were?”

“Y-yeah,” Prompto moaned, head tossing on the bed. “He – said I was perfect. That he wanted to come all over my face.”

Noctis’s head went back and he moaned, long and loud, hips snapping forward in a hard, desperate rhythm. “Tell me he came on your face. Fuck, lie if you have to.”

Prompto’s laugh was high and wild. His body was nearly bent in half as Noctis fucked him harder. “Not a lie. He did. Pulled out and shot all over my face. My hair. And Gladio – when he saw, he said it was gonna make him come, too. So he pulled out. Came all over my back. I was fucking covered in it, Noct. Covered in their come.”  

“They – how’d you get off, they didn’t leave you, did they?” Noctis’s hand was on Prompto’s cock, stroking hard and fast in time with the snap of his hips. Noctis was really giving it to him, driving his cock in deep with each thrust.

“Nah. Once they were done, they put me on my back. Took turns on my dick. Sucked and licked and kissed –”

Noctis game with a low shout, falling forward, driving hard inside of him while his cock pulsed. His hand faltered on Prompto’s erection, but Prompto didn’t mind. He knew Noctis wouldn’t let him languish.

He didn’t. When he’d recovered, he pulled out – gently, always careful not to hurt – and moved back so that Prompto could put his legs down. He kissed Prompto, hot and open-mouthed, before moving quickly down his throat and chest and stomach, glancing up at him. “And when you came, was it good? Did they lick you clean?”

“Yeah – fuck, please, I’m so close,” Prompto almost wailed, thrashing on the bed. When Noctis took him in his mouth it was over, fast – he grabbed Noctis’s dark hair and his hips snapped forward, pleasure shuddering through him as he came down Noctis’s eager, swallowing throat.

Usually, after sex that intense, Noctis needed a few minutes to come back to himself. But this time, he hauled Prompto into his arms and held him, disregarding how sweaty and sticky they both were.  Prompto snuggled close, rubbing his hand up and down the damp, slick skin of Noctis’s back, fingers brushing over the scar from his childhood injury on each pass.

Noctis eventually shifted, and Prompto moved back – as much to get some much-needed cool air as to give Noctis his measure of space. Noctis smiled at him, sleepy and sated, and Prompto smiled back.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Noctis laughed, stretching like a satisfied cat. “Damn. That was hot.”

“And that was only the first time,” Prompto joked, and was pleased when Noctis’s face broke into a wide grin. “Wait until I tell you how I rode Ignis’s cock while Gladio face-fucked him.”

Noctis groaned and flapped a hand out, hitting him with absolutely no pressure on the arm. “Stoppit. Tired. Tell me in the morning.” He cracked one eye open. “But definitely tell me.”

“You got it, buddy.” Prompto recognized the signs of Noctis being not long for this world and shifted around to switch off the light and get settled. Noctis came close, curling up against him again. Prompto yawned, carding fingers through Noctis’s sweat-damp hair. “That was definitely one of your better ideas. Much better than that one in high school, where you wanted to warp from that building downtown to the noodle place –”

Noctis clamped a hand over his mouth. “Hey. Shh. All my ideas are good ones.” He yawned, too. “Thanks for – well. Everything.”

“Yeah.” Prompto nuzzled at him. “I do love you. A lot.”

“Yeah. Love you, too.” Noctis’s words were drowsy and slurred. Prompto figured he’d be asleep in fourteen seconds or less.

He almost said something about how Noctis could tell him, too, about what had happened to  _ him  _ last night. The idea of Noctis hate-fucking anyone – even Ardyn ( _ especially  _ Ardyn) – was as intriguing as it was inconceivable. But he could see Noct’s face in the moonlight that spilled in through the windows, relaxed and obviously at peace, and he didn’t want to bring it up.

So instead he closed his eyes and let himself drift off to sleep at Noctis’s side – where he always wanted to be.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not a huge fan of misunderstandings as a plot device, but I DO love healthy conflict resolution. So this particular misunderstanding doesn't drag out, also because I wanted to write that scene with Prompto telling Noctis about his threesome (which I might write as a side-story for this 'verse at some point!) 
> 
> also i am 100% here for dad!Cor fanon, so. 
> 
> Next chapter: Ardyn's been waiting a long, long time to deliver this particular monologue.

**Author's Note:**

> Come [chatter at me on tumblr because I promise i want to yell about these characters always](http://dustofwarfare-blog.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
